f 


I 

<1 

Cr  * 


TRUE  STORIES  OF 
NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES 


Carried  to  Canada 

During  the  Old  French  and  Indian  Wars 


BY 


C.  ALICE  BAKER 


CAMBRIDGE 

1897 


£ 

3!£ 

fj .  ij 

In  Preparation 

GLEANINGS  FROM  NEW  ENGLAND  AND  CANADIAN  ARCHIVES 
CONCERNING  CAPTIVES  IN  THE  OLD  WARS 

i 


Copyright,  1897 
By  C.  Alice  Baker 


All  rights  reserved 


50551 


GREENFIELD,  MASS. 

Press  of  E.  A.  Hall  &  Co. 
1897 


O’NEILL  LIBHARY 

BOSTON  CQ/<  bbc 


TO 

THE  MEMORY  OF  THOSE  NUNS  AND  PRIESTS  WHO  SHELTERED  AND 
PROTECTED  OUR  CAPTIVES  IN  CANADA  AND  TO  THEIR  SUC¬ 
CESSORS  BY  WHOM  I  HAVE  BEEN  KINDLY  HELPED 
IN  MY  WORK  THESE  NARRATIVES 
ARE  AFFECTIONATELY 


DEDICATED 


PREFACE 


As  often  as  I  have  read  in  the  annals  of  the  early  settlers 
of  New  England  the  pathetic  words,  “Carried  captive  to  Can¬ 
ada  whence  they  came  not  back,”  1  have  longed  to  know  the 
fate  of  the  captives.  The  wish  has  become  a  purpose,  and 
I  have  taken  upon  myself  a  mission  to  open  the  door  for 
their  return. 

It  is  just  fifty  years  since  that  indefatigable  Antiquary, 
Mr.  Samuel  G.  Drake,  published  at  Boston  his  “Tragedies  of 
the  Wilderness.”  I  offer  these  narratives  as  a  modest  sequel 
to  the  work  of  my  illustrious  predecessor.  c.  A.  B. 

Cambridge,  Mass. 

March,  1897. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Christine  Otis/  (A  romance  of  real  life  on  the  frontier  as 

told  in  the  records.) . 5 

Esther  Wheelwright.  .......  35 

Story  of  a  York  Family.  .......  69 

Difficulties  and  Dangers  in  the  Settlement  of  a  Fron¬ 
tier  Town  1670.  .......  89 

Eunice  Williams.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .128 

Ensign  John  Sheldon.  .......  155 

'My  Hunt  for  the  Captives . 193 

Two  Captives.  (A  romance  of  real  life  two  hundred  years 

ago.) . 223 

A  Day  at  Oka.  ........  250 

Thankful  Stebbins.  ........  259 

A  Scion  of  the  Church  in  Deerfield.  Joseph-Octave 
Plessis.  (Written  for  the  two  hundredth  anniversary 
of  the  founding  of  the  church  in  Deerfield.)  .  .  272 

'Hertel  De  Rouville.  .......  304 

'Father  Meriel — Mary  Silver . .  .  319 

APPENDIX. 

A  Christinr  Otis.  .....  333 

B  Esther  Wheelwright.  ....  335 

C  Eunice  Williams . 358 

D  Ensign  John  Sheldon.  ....  394 

E  My  Hunt  for  the  Captives.  .  .  396 

F  Thankful  Stebbins . .  .  399 

INDEX . 401 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Esther  Wheelwright,  -Frontispiece. 

Mother  Superior  of  the  Ursulines  at  Quebec  from  a 
portrait  sent  to  her  mother  in  1761. 

Facsimile  of  the  Baptismal  Record  of  Dorothce 

Ue  Noyon.  . 52 

Ursurline  Convent  at  Quebec  as  Completed  in  1723, 
from  a  sketch  made  in  1842  by  Rev.  Mere  Saint- 


Croix.  .........  60 

Wheelwright  Coat  of  Arms,  from  a  painting  on  silk 

done  by  Esther  Wheelwright.  .....  66 

Mary  Wheelwright,  from  a  miniature  sent  to  her  daughter 

Esther  in  1754.  .......  68 

The  Junkins  Garrison  House  Built  in  1675,  from  a 

painting  by  Susan  Minot  Lane.  .  .  .  .  .  72 

Fort  Saint-Louis  at  Caughnawaga  with  Priest’s  House.  132 
Old  Indian  House  at  Deerfield.  .....  166 

Facsimile  of  the  Marriage  Record  of  Elizabeth  Price, 

with  signatures  of  several  captives.  ....  206 

Champlain’s  Trading  Post  at  La  Chine,  later  occupied 

by  Robert  Cavelier  de  La  Salle.  ....  252 

Homestead  of  Josiah  Rising  and  Abigail  Nims.  .  .  256 

Fort  Pontchartrain  at  Chambly.  ....  268 

Mgr.  Joseph-Octave  Plessis.  ......  272 


1 


CHRISTINE  OTIS. 


A  ROMANCE  OF  REAL  LIFE  ON  THE  FRONTIER  AS  TOLD 

IN  THE  RECORDS. 

INTRODUCTION. 

The  magnificent  obelisks  of  Central  America  lay  crumbling 
to  decay  in  the  thickets  of  Yucatan.  The  mines  of  the  Mound 
Builder  were  deserted  and  silent.  The  eagle  screamed  un¬ 
disturbed  in  the  homes  of  the  Cliff  Dweller. 

A  race  who  possessed  no  traditions  of  these  old  civilizations 
held  the  soil  of  North  America,  when,  from  Greenland  poured 
down  a  horde  of  those  Norse  pirates,  whose  name  from  time 
immemorial  had  been  a  terror  to  every  land.  The  story  of 
the  first  meeting  of  the  white  man  and  the  red  man  on  our 
shores  is  an  interesting  one.  Let  us  read  it  from  the  sagas 
of  the  Northmen.  They  will  be  apt  to  tell  it  flatteringly  to 
themselves. 

In  the  year  of  our  Lord  999,  Leif  the  Lucky,  son  of  Eric  the 
Red,  spent  the  winter  in  Vinland, — wherever  that  may  be, — 
whether  Nantucket,  Narragansett,  or  Nova  Scotia,  we  have 
as  yet  no  ken.  “Leif  was  a  mickle  man  and  stout,  most 
noble  to  see ;  a  wise  man,  and  moderate  in  all  things.” 

Apparently  he  had  no  encounter  with  the  natives.  Whether 


6 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


his  mickleness,  or  his  moderation  and  wisdom,  had  anything 
to  do  with  this,  the  chronicler  saith  not.  Now  there  was 
great  talk  about  Leif’s  Vinland  voyage,  and  Thorvald,  his 
brother,  thought  the  land  had  been  too  little  explored.  Then 
said  Leif  to  Thorvald,  “Thou  shalt  go  with  my  ship,  brother, 
if  thou  wilt  to  Vinland.” 

So  in  1002,  Thorvald  and  his  men  came  to  Vinland,  to  Leif’s 
booths,  and  dwelt  in  peace  there  that  winter.  In  the  summer 
they  sent  the  long  boat  along  to  the  westward  to  explore. 
On  the  island  they  found  a  corn-shed  of  wood.  More  works 
of  men  they  found  not,  and  they  went  back  to  Leif’s  booths 
in  the  fall.  “After  that  they  coasted  into  the  mouths  of  firths 

that  were  nearest  to  them . and  to  a  headland  that 

stretched  out,  and  they  saw  upon  the  sands  within  the  head¬ 
land  three  heights.  They  went  thither,  and  saw  there  three 
skin  boats  and  three  men  under  each.  Then  they  divided 
the  people,  and  laid  hands  on  them  all  except  one,  that  got 
off  with  his  boat.  They  killed  these  eight,  and  then  went 
back  to  the  headland,  and  saw  in  the  firth  some  heights,  and 
thought  they  were  dwellings.  Then  came  from  the  firth  in¬ 
numerable  skin  boats  and  made  towards  them.”  Thorvald 
said,  “We  will  set  up  our  battle  shields,  and  guard  ourselves 
as  best  we  can,  but  fight  but  little.  So  they  did,  and  the 
Skraelings  shot  at  them  for  a  while,  but  they  fled,  each  as 
fast  as  he  could.”  Thorvald  was  killed. 

Karlsefni  came  next,  “And  this  agreement  made  he  with 
his  seamen  :  that  they  should  have  even  handed  all  that  they 

should  get  in  the  way  of  goods.  They  bore  out  to  sea . 

and  came  to  Leif’s  booths  hale  and  whole . After  the 

first  winter  came  the  summer, . then  they  saw  appear 

the  Skraelings,  and  there  came  from  out  the  wood  a  great 
number  of  men.  At  the  roaring  of  Karlsefni’s  bulls  the 
Skraelings  were  frightened  and  ran  off  with  their  bundles. 
These  were  furs  and  sable  skins,  and  skin  wares  of  all  kinds. 


CHRISTINE  OTIS. 


7 


Karlsefni  had  the  doors  of  the  booths  guarded.  Then  the 
Skraelings  took  down  their  bags,  and  opened  them  and  of¬ 
fered  them  for  sale,  and  wanted  weapons  for  them.  But 
Karlsefni  forbade  them  to  sell  weapons.  He  took  this  plan  : 
he  bade  the  women  bring  out  their  dairy  stuff,  and  no  sooner 
had  they  seen  that,  than  they  would  have  that  and  nothing 
more.  Now  this  was  the  way  the  Skraelings  traded:  they 
bore  off  their  wares  in  their  stomachs ;  but  Karlsefni  and  his 
companions  had  their  bags  and  their  skin  wares,  and  so  they 

parted . Karlsefni  then  had  posts  driven  strongly  about 

his  booths,  and  made  all  complete.” 

“Next  winter  the  Skraelings  came  again,  and  were  more 
than  before,  and  they  had  the  same  wares.  Then  Karl¬ 
sefni  said  to  the  women,  ‘Now  bring  forth  the  same  food  that 
was  most  liked  before,  and  no  other.’  And  when  they  saw  it, 
they  cast  their  bundles  in  over  the  fence.  But  one  of  them 
being  killed  by  one  of  Karlsefni’s  men,  they  all  fled  in  haste, 
and  left  their  garments  and  wmres  behind.  ‘Now,’  said 
Karlsefni,  ‘  I  think  they  will  come  for  the  third  time  in  anger, 
and  with  many  men.’  It  was  done  as  Karlsefni  had  said, 
. there  was  a  battle  and  many  of  the  .Skraelings  fell.” 

The  whole  story  of  the  dealings  of  the  white  man  with  the 
red  man  is  here  in  a  nutshell.  Thorvald  goes  ashore  with 
his  company.  “Here  it  is  fair,”  he  cries,  “and  here  would  I 
like  to  raise  my  dwelling,”  but  seeing  upon  the  sands  three 
boats,  and  three  men  under  each,  “this  iron-armed  and  stal¬ 
wart  crew, ’’—thirty  broad-breasted  Norsemen,  lay  hands  upon 
the  helpless  nine  and  kill  them.  One  escapes  to  tell  the  tale. 
A  fight  ensues,  and  Thorvald  pays  the  penalty  of  his  mis¬ 
deeds.  The  savage  has  felt  the  power  of  the  white  man’s 
weapons.  He  covets  them.  He  comes  the  next  year  to 
Karlsefni  with  sable  skins . and  wants  weapons  in  ex¬ 

change.  Karlsefni  wisely  refuses.  The  women  bring  out 
the  dairy  stuff,  and  the  simple  savages  trade.  “They  bear 


8 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


off  their  wares  in  their  stomachs!”  But  Karlsefni  had 
their  bags,  and  their  precious  skin  wares.  So  they  part. 
The  booths  are  palisaded.  Winter  brings  the  hungry  savage 
once  more  to  the  white  man's  door.  With  reckless  generos¬ 
ity  he  throws  his  bundles  in  over  the  palisade.  Supplied 
with  food  in  return,  he  is  going  peacefully  away,  when,  for 
mere  pastime,  he  is  felled  to  the  earth — killed  by  one  of 
Karlsefni’s  men.  His  followers  flee.  They  come  back. 
There  is  a  battle  and  many  of  them  fall. 

Here  we  might  rest  the  case  of  the  red  man  versus  the 
white  man.  But  the  evidence  is  cumulative  against  the  lat¬ 
ter.  Columbus  has  left  us  an  account  of  his  reception  by  the 
“Indians,”  as  he  names  them.  Native  and  Spaniard  were  an 
equal  surprise  to  each  other.  The  savage  thought  that  the 
ships  of  the  strangers  were  huge  birds,  that  had  borne  these 
wonderful  beings  down  from  heaven  on  their  great,  white 
wings.  They  were  “friendly  and  gentle”  to  the  new  comers. 
Columbus  gave  them  colored  caps,  beads  and  hawks  bells, 
in  exchange  for  twenty-pound  balls  of  cotton  yarn,  great 
numbers  of  tame  parrots  and  tapioca  cakes.  He  coasted  about 
the  island  in  the  ship’s  boat,  and  some  of  the  natives  swam 
after  him,  while  others  ran  along  on  the  shore,  tempting  him 
with  fruits  and  fresh  water  to  land.  He  speaks  of  them  al¬ 
ways  as  decorous,  temperate,  peaceful,  honest,  generous  and 
hospitable.  “They  are  very  simple  and  honest,”  he  says, 
“and  exceedingly  liberal  with  all  that  they  have,  none  of 
them  refusing  anything  he  may  possess,  when  asked  for  it, 
but  on  the  contrary  inviting  us  to  ask  them.  They  exhibit 
great  love  towards  all  others  in  preference  to  themselves  ; 
they  also  give  objects  of  great  value  for  trifles,  and  content 

themselves  with  little  or  nothing  in  return . A  sailor 

received  for  a  leather  strap  as  much  gold  as  was  worth  three 
golden  nobles,1 . they  bartered  like  idiots,  cotton  and 

'A  noble  is  about  $1.60. 


kl&tog  ■  /■ 


CHRISTINE  OTIS. 


9 


gold,  for  fragments  of  bows,  glasses,  bottles  and  jars ;  which 
I  forbade,  as  being  unjust,  and  myself  gave  them  many  beau¬ 
tiful  and  acceptable  articles, . taking  nothing  from  them 

in  return . They  practice  no  kind  of  idolatry,  but  have 

a  firm  belief  that  all  strength,  and  all  power  and  all  good 

things  are  in  heaven,  and  that  I  had  descended  thence . 

Nor  are  they  slow  or  stupid,  but  of  very  clear  understanding. 

. I  took  some  Indians  by  force  from  the  first  island 

I  came  to . These  men  are  still  travelling  with  me, 

and  they  continue  to  entertain  the  idea  that  I  have  de¬ 
scended  from  heaven,  and  on  our  arrival  at  any  new  place 
they  cry  out  to  the  other  Indians,  ‘Come  and  look  upon  be¬ 
ings  of  a  celestial  race,’  upon  which  men,  women  and  children 

. would  come  out  in  throngs  to  see  us, — some  bringing 

food,  others  drink,  with  astonishing  affection  and  kindness.” 

On  every  voyage  Columbus  carried  back  to  Spain,  men, 
women  and  children  taken  by  force  from  their  homes.  Worse 
than  that,  he  farmed  out  these  poor  children  of  the  forest  to 
the  indolent  Spanish  colonists  of  Hayti,  and  they  died  by 
hundreds  from  ill  treatment  and  overwork.  Worst  of  all,  to 
satisfy  Spanish  avarice,  he  sent  great  numbers  of  them  to  be 
sold  as  slaves  in  Spain  for  the  benefit  of  that  kingdom. 

In  1498,  Sebastian  Cabot  carried  to  King  Henry  the  Seventh 
three  savages  as  trophies  of  his  discoveries  in  North  America. 

France  had  her  share  of  the  spoils.  In  1524,  John  Verra- 
zano,  in  his  ship  the  Dolphin,  reached  the  shore  of  Carolina. 
Fires  were  burning  along  the  coast  and  the  savages  crowded 
to  the  beach  making:  sigrns  of  welcome.  The  French  were  in 
want  of  water  and  tried  to  land,  but  the  surf  was  too  high. 
A  sailor,  carrying  bells  and  other  trifles,  leaped  overboard 
from  the  boat.  His  courage  failed  and  he  threw  the  trinkets 
towards  the  natives.  The  waves  tossed  him  back  upon  the 
shore,  and  the  Indians,  snatching  him  from  the  sea,  dragged 
him  towards  a  great  fire.  The  sailor  shrieked  with  fear.  His 


IO 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


comrades  in  the  boat  gazed  with  horror,  expecting  to  see  him 
roasted  and  eaten  before  their  eyes.  But  after  tenderly 
warming  and  drying  him  they  led  him  back  to  the  shore,  and 
stood  aloof  while  he  swam  off  to  his  friends.  Shall  I  tell  you 
how  this  kindness  was  repaid  ?  Coasting  north,  a  party  of 
them  landed.  The  natives  fled  to  the  woods.  Only  two  wom¬ 
en  and  half  a  dozen  children  remained,  hiding  terrified  in  the 
grass.  These  civilized  Frenchmen  carried  off  one  of  the  ba¬ 
bies  and  would  have  taken  the  younger  woman,  who  was 
handsome,  but  her  outcries  made  them  leave  her  behind. 
There  is  no  clue  to  the  fate  of  Verrazano  ;  it  may  be  true,  as 
Ramusio  affirms,  that  on  a  later  voyage  he  was  killed  and 
eaten  by  the  savages. 

Ten  years  later,  Jacques  Cartier  sailed  into  the  mouth  of 
the  St.  Lawrence  and  bore  away  for  France  to  tell  the  King 
he  had  discovered  the  northwest  passage  to  Cathay.  He  car¬ 
ried  with  him  two  young  Indians  “lured  into  his  clutches,” 
says  Mr.  Parkman,  “by  an  act  of  villainous  treachery.”  I 
suppose  “the  greasy  potentate,”  whose  sons  they  were,  loved 
his  boys  as  well  as  any  father  loves  his  children,  but  the  wild 
Indian  was  no  more  than  a  wild  turkey  to  the  European  ex¬ 
plorer,  and  both  were  constantly  carried  over  as  samples 
of  the  natural  products  of  the  New  World.  Cartier  brought 
back  the  boys  the  next  year  to  guide  him  up  the  river.  He 
went  up  as  far  as  Montreal,  and  coming  back  to  Quebec 
his  crew  were  smitten  with  scurvy.  There  he  might  easily 
have  been  cut  off  by  the  savages,  but  “they  proved  his  salva¬ 
tion.”  He  learned  from  them  a  cure  for  the  distemper,  and 
his  crew  were  restored  to  health.  “When  the  winter  of  mis¬ 
ery  had  worn  away,”  he  seized  Donnacona  and  his  chiefs,  to 
carry  them  back  to  the  French  court.  Mr.  Parkman  tells  the 
story:  “He  lured  them  to  the  fort  and  led  them  into  an  am¬ 
buscade  of  sailors,  who,  seizing  the  astonished  guests,  hur¬ 
ried  them  on  board  the  ship.  This  treachery  accomplished, 


:!if  r  !•  r  r  ;1  *1  r !’  5  ? ' 

> :  • ; t' ; '  >  ^ : !  r  -L  is  i}'  ?  h  i‘ « f,  5  r  r  •  • ; ; 

S?s>;mSSph*sS' 
•  •••*4vV<5'>H5Si5a{- 


nfiqu  5FXJ^TUN1  CABOT! 

ifttii  iohanlk  c.AOOri  vcm: 
Tl  «IL ;  m  A/lv  .AH  P |£j  f  1 1 
»Rl,s  ifYUJffcMC© 

« /s  ft  to  I 


yiy  W/V  /\0X", ’'V/tTOJV 


a 


CHRISTINE  OTIS. 


1  I 


the  voyagers  proceeded  to  plant  the  emblem  of  Christianity. 
The  cross  was  raised,  the  fleur-de-lis  hung  upon  it,  and 
spreading  their  sails  they  steered  for  home.”  Cartier  came 
back  once  more,  and  told  the  natives  that  their  chief,  Donna- 
cona,  was  dead,  and  the  others  were  living  like  lords  in 
France  ; — which  information  must  have  been  very  gratifying 
to  them,  under  the  circumstances ! 

In  1602,  Gosnold  visited  the  Massachusetts  coast.  The  In¬ 
dians  traded  with  him  valuable  furs  and  “their  fairest  col¬ 
lars”  of  copper  for  the  merest  trifles.  “We  became  great 
friends,”  says  one  of  the  party.  “They  helped  cut  and  carry 

our  sassafras,  and  some  lay  aboard  our  ship . They 

are  exceeding  courteous  and  gentle  of  disposition,” . 

“quick-eyed,  and  steadfast  in  their  looks,  fearless  of  others’ 
harms,  as  intending  none  themselves.  Some  of  the  meaner 
sort,  given  to  filching,  which  the  very  name  of  savages,  not 
weighing  their  ignorance  in  good  or  evil,  may  easily  excuse.” 

In  1605,  Weymouth  entered  the  Penobscot  river.  He  gave 
the  savages  “brandy,  which  they  tasted,  but  would  not  drink.” 
. He  had  two  of  them  at  supper  in  his  cabin,  and  pres¬ 
ent  at  prayer  time.  “They  behaved  very  civilly,  neither 
laughing  nor  talking  all  the  time,  and  at  supper  fed  not  like 
men  of  rude  education  ;  neither  would  they  eat  or  drink  more 
than  seemed  to  content  nature.”  They  carefully  returned 
pewter  dishes  lent  them  to  carry  peas  ashore  to  their  women. 
As  Weymouth  “could  not  entice  three  others  aboard,”  whom 
he  wished  to  kidnap,  he  “consulted  with  his  crew  how  to  catch 
them  ashore.”  Then  they  carried  peas  ashore,  “which  meat 
they  loved”  and  a  box  of  trifles  for  barter.  “I  opened  the 
box,”  says  an  actor  in  this  tragedy,  “and  showed  them  trifles 
to  exchange,  thinking  thereby  to  have  banished  fear  from 
the  other  and  drawn  him  to  return.  But  when  we  could  not, 
we  used  little  delay,  but  suddenly  laid  hands  on  them,  and 
it  was  as  much  as  five  or  six  of  us  could  do  to  get  them  into 


12 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


the  light  gig,  for  they  were  strong,  and  so  naked  as  by  far 
our  best  hold  was  by  the  long  hair  on  their  heads ;  and  we 
would  have  been  very  loath  to  have  done  them  any  hurt, 
which  of  necessity  we  had  been  constrained  to  have  done  if 
we  had  attempted  them  in  a  multitude,  which  we  must  and 
would,  rather  than  have  wanted  them,  being  a  matter  of  great 
importance  for  the  full  accomplishment  of  our  voyage.”  The 
chronicler  after  praising  the  country,  thus  concludes  his  re¬ 
lation  :  “Although  at  the  time  we  surprised  them  they  made 

their  best  resistance, . yet,  after  perceiving  by  their 

kind  usage  we  intended  them  no  harm,  they  have  never  since 
seemed  discontented  with  us,  but  very  tractable,  loving,  and 
willing  by  their  best  means,  to  satisfy  us  in  anything  we  de¬ 
mand  of  them . Neither  have  they  at  any  time  been 

at  the  least  discord  among  themselves,  insomuch  as  we  have 
not  seen  them  angry,  but  merry  and  so  kind,  as,  if  you  give 
anything  to  one  of  them,  he  will  distribute  part  to  every  one 
of  the  rest.” 

Mr.  Higginson  tells  us  that  Weymouth’s  Indians  were  the 
objects  of  great  wonder  in  England,  and  crowds  of  people 
followed  them  in  the  streets.  It  is  thought  that  Shakespeare 
referred  to  them  in  “The  Tempest”  a  few  years  later.  Trin- 
culo  there  wishing  to  take  the  monster  Caliban  to  Eng¬ 
land,  says  :  “Not  a  holiday  fool  there  but  would  give  a  piece 

of  silver . When  they  will  not  give  a  doit  to  relieve  a 

lame  beggar,  they  will  lay  out  ten  to  see  a  dead  Indian.” 

John  Smith’s  disasters  in  Virginia  were  due  to  the  disor¬ 
derly  conduct  of  his  men  towards  the  natives. 

It  is  true  that  an  Indian  arrow  was  “shot  into  the  throat” 
of  one  of  Hudson’s  crew,  but  the  chronicler  who  tells  the  tale, 
says  they  found  “loving  people”  on  their  first  landing ;  and 
the  disgraceful  debauch  in  the  cabin  of  the  “Half  Moon,”  does 
not  speak  well  for  the  conduct  of  the  Dutch  on  that  occasion. 

John  Smith  narrates  how  Captain  Hunt  “betrayed”  twenty 


CHRISTINE  OTIS. 


13 


savages  from  Plymouth,  and  seven  from  Cape  Cod  “aboard 
his  ship,  and  most  dishonestly  and  inhumanly,  for  the  kind 
usage  of  me,  and  all  my  men,  carried  them  with  him  to  Ma- 
ligo  (Malaga)  and  there,  for  a  little  private  gain,  sold  these 
silly  savages  for  rials  of  eight.”  An  old  woman  of  ninety  af¬ 
terward  told  Edward  Winslow,  with  tears  and  groans,  that 
her  three  sons,  her  only  dependence,  were  among  the  number. 

The  unscrupulousness  of  Morton’s  followers  at  Merrymount, 
who  cheated,  abused,  and  stole  from  the  Indians,  and  sold  them 
liquor  and  weapons,  came  near  being  the  destruction  of  the 
Pilgrims. 

It  is  an  unwelcome  task,  while  commemorating  our  ances¬ 
try  who  suffered  death  or  a  cruel  captivity  at  the  hands  of 
the  savage,  to  say  a  word  in  extenuation.  I  am  no  hero-wor¬ 
shipper.  I  find  more  shrewdness  than  saintliness  in  Massa- 
soit’s  friendship.  It  was  for  him  a  choice  of  evils.  I  see 
nothing  of  statesmanship  or  valor  to  admire  in  Philip.  No 
more  do  I  think  there  is  any  basis  for  a  wholesale  denuncia¬ 
tion  of  his  race.  We  have  seen  how  from  Maine  to  Cuba  the 
explorer  was  the  aggressor.  In  later  colonial  times  it  was  a 
poor  schooling  we  gave  the  red  man,  and  he  did  credit  to 
our  teaching.  We  know  little  of  the  savage  before  his  con¬ 
tamination  by  the  white  man.  Revenge  belongs  to  the  child¬ 
hood  of  nations  as  well  as  to  that  of  individuals.  To  love  our 
enemies, — to  do  good  to  them  that  despitefully  use  us,  is  a 
hard  feat  even  for  an  adult  Christian  civilization.  If,  as  John 
Robinson  wished,  we  had  converted  some  before  we  had  killed 
any,  we  should  make  a  better  show  in  history.  That  was  a 
grim  satire  of  old  Ninigret,  who  told  Mr.  Mayhew,  when 
he  wanted  to  preach  to  his  people,  that  he  “had  better  go  and 
make  the  English  good  first.”  We  should  not  shrink  from 
tracing  effects  to  their  causes.  The  Indian  trader  from  Karl- 
sefni  to  Richard  Waldron,  (I  may  say  to  the  frontier  agent  of 
to-day,)  was  dishonest.  He  sold  rum  to  the  savage,  and  then 


14 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


fined  him  for  getting-  drunk.  Was  it  truth  the  Indian  ut¬ 
tered,  or  a  bitter  jest  on  the  diluted  quality  of  the  liquor,  when 
he  testified  before  the  court  that  he  “had  paid  ^ioofora 
drink  from  Mr.  Purchas  his  well?  ”  The  fine  was  not  always 
crossed  out  when  it  was  paid  till  the  exasperated  savage 
crossed  it  out  with  one  blow  of  his  hatchet,  for  which  he  had 
paid  ten  times  its  worth  in  furs.  The  Government  was  not 
always  responsible,  though  the  “Walking  Purchase”  and  the 
murder  of  Miantonomoh  are  rank  offences.  Usually  the 
frontier  settlement  suffered  for  the  sins  of  individuals.  There 
is  no  more  striking  illustration  of  this  fact  than  the  story  of 

CHRISTINE  OTIS. 

In  1623  some  London  fishmongers  set  up  their  stages  on  the 
Piscataqua  river. 

Passaconaway,  the  sagacious  sachem  of  the  Pennacooks, 
desirous  of  an  ally  against  his  troublesome  neighbors,  the 
Tarratines,  urged  more  English  to  come.  He  gave  them 
deeds  of  land  in  exchange  for  coats,  shirts  and  kettles.  The 
natives  continued  peaceable, — the  whites  fished,  planted  and 
traded  unmolested.  Feeling  death  approaching,  old  Passa¬ 
conaway  made  a  great  feast,  and  thus  addressed  his  chieftains : 
“Listen  to  your  father.  The  white  men  are  the  sons  of  the 
morning.  The  Great  Spirit  is  their  father.  Never  war  with 
them.  If  you  light  the  fires  His  breath  will  turn  the  flames 
upon  you  and  destroy  you.”  Knowles,  a  tributary  chief, 
whose  tribe  occupied  the  region  round  about  the  settlers  on 
the  Piscataqua,  felt  similar  presentiments.  Sending  for  the 
principal  white  men,  he  asked  them  to  mark  out  and  record 
in  their  books  a  grant  of  a  few  hundred  acres  for  his  people. 
The  old  sachem's  son  Wannaloncet,  and  Blind  Will,  succes¬ 
sor  to  Knowles,  determined  to  heed  Passaconaway’s  advice, 
and  keep  peace  with  the  whites,  and  the  Pennacooks  remained 


CHRISTINE  OTIS. 


15 


neutral  through  Philip’s  war.  At  that  time  Cocheco,  now 
Dover,  New  Hampshire,  was  the  main  trading  post  with  the 
Indians  of  all  that  region.  Major  Richard  Waldron  was  the 
most  prominent  man  of  Cocheco.  He  held  many  offices  of 
trust  under  the  Government,  and  a  command  in  Philip’s  war. 
He  was  naturally  severe  ;  was  a  successful  Indian  trader,  and 
had  the  reputation  of  being  a  dishonest  one.  It  was  said  that 
he  did  not  cancel  their  accounts  when  they  had  paid  him,  and 
that  in  buying  beaver  he  reckoned  his  fist  as  weighing  a 
pound.  Though  Philip’s  war  began  later  in  the  Eastern 
country,  it  raged  there  with  terrible  ferocity,  “where,”  says 
Mr.  Palfrey,  “from  the  rough  character  of  the  English  set¬ 
tlers,  it  may  well  be  believed  that  the  natives  were  not  with¬ 
out  provocation.”  Troops  were  ordered  out  by  the  General 
Court  of  Massachusetts  to  subdue  the  eastern  Indians,  but 
the  snow  lay  four  feet  on  a  level  in  December,  and  military 
operations  were  impossible.  The  Indians,  pinched  with  fam¬ 
ine  from  the  severity  of  the  winter,  and  dependent  upon  the 
frontier  settlements  for  food,  sued  for  peace  through  Major 
Waldron,  promising  to  give  up  their  captives  without  ransom, 
and  to  be  quiet  in  the  future.  In  July,  1676,  Waldron,  on  be¬ 
half  of  the  whites,  signed  a  treaty  with  them  at  Cocheco. 
After  Philip’s  death  some  of  his  followers  fled  to  the  Penna- 
cooks.  They  were  taken  and  put  in  Dover  jail.  Escaping, 
they  incited  some  of  the  Maine  Indians  to  renew  their  dep¬ 
redations.  Two  companies  were  sent  to  the  East  under  Cap¬ 
tains  Sill  and  Hathorne.  They  reached  Dover  on  the  6th  of 
September.  There  they  found  four  hundred  Indians,  part 
of  them  Pennacooks  who  had  taken  no  part  in  the  war  ;  others 
who  had  been  party  to  the  treaty  a  few  months  before,  and 
the  rest,  southern  Indians,  who,  fleeing  to  the  eastward  after 
Philip’s  death,  had  been  received  into  the  tribes  there.  Why 
they  were  at  Dover  we  are  not  told,  but  evidently  with  no 
hostile  intent,  as  their  women  and  children  were  with  them. 


i6 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


The  belligerent  captains  would  have  annihilated  them  at 
once,  as  their  orders  were  to  seize  all  Indians  concerned  in 
the  murder  of  Englishmen,  or  who  had  violated  the  treaty. 
Waldron  proposed  a  stratagem  instead.  Inviting  the  Indians 
to  a  sham  fight  the  next  day,  having  drawn  the  Indians’  fire, 
the  English  soldiers  surrounded  and  disarmed  them.  Wan- 
naloncet  and  the  Pennaeooks  were  set  free.  The  rest  were 
sent  to  Boston,  where  seven  or  eight  of  the  well-known  mur¬ 
derers  were  hung,  and  the  rest  sold  as  slaves  abroad.  It  is 
said  that  Major  Waldron  was  opposed  to  the  seizure,  but  re¬ 
garded  it  as  a  military  necessity.  It  is  true  that  he  might 
have  been  censured  by  his  government  if  he  had  refused  to 
obey  its  orders,  but  a  strictly  honorable  man  would  rather 
have  left  his  case  to  the  judgment  of  posterity,  or  have  thrown 
up  his  commission,  than  to  have  committed  so  gross  a  breach 
of  hospitality  and  faith.  The  Pennaeooks  looked  upon  his 
conduct  as  treachery.  It  was  a  time  of  peace.  They  had 
never  broken  faith  with  him.  They  were,  as  it  were,  surety 
for  the  good  behavior  of  Philip’s  Indians  and  the  rest.  They 
never  forgave  him. 

Thirteen  years  passed.  Some  of  those  who  had  been  sold 
into  slavery  came  back.  The  emissaries  of  Castine  whispered 
vengeance.  The  opportunity  for  retaliation  came  to  the  Pen- 
nacooks,  and  a  plot  was  laid  for  the  destruction  of  Dover. 
In  June,  1689,  the  Dover  people  began  to  be  suspicious  that 
the  Indians  were  unfriendly.  Larger  numbers  seemed  to  be 
gathering  in  the  neighborhood  than  usually  came  to  trade. 
Strange  faces  were  noticed  among  them,  and  now  and  then 
they  were  seen  eyeing  the  defenses.  More  than  one  friendly 
squaw  hinted  of  danger  to  the  settlers’  wives  who  had  been 
kind  to  them,  but  they  were  not  heeded.  “Go  plant  your 
pumpkins,”  cried  Waldron  to  those  who  told  him  their  fears, 
“I  know  the  red  skins  better  than  you,  and  I  will  let  you 
know  soon  enough  if  there  are  any  signs  of  an  outbreak.” 


1 

i 


CHRISTINE  OTIS. 


17 


Waldron,  Richard  Otis,  John  Heard,  Peter  Coffin  and  his 
son  Tristram  had  each  a  garrison  house  at  Dover  at  that 
time.  Into  these  their  neighbors  who  felt  uneasy,  retired  to 
sleep.  On  the  morning  of  the  27th  of  June,  a  young  man 
rushed  to  Waldron’s  house  and  told  him  that  the  town  was 
full  of  Indians,  and  that  the  people  w^ere  thoroughly  fright¬ 
ened.  “I  know  the  Indians  well,”  replied  Waldron  with  some 
asperity,  “and  I  tell  you  there  is  no  danger.”  That  very 
morning,  howmver,  the  following  letter  from  Major  Hench¬ 
man  of  Chelmsford  was  received  by  Gov.  Bradstreet  at  Bos¬ 
ton  : 

June  23,  1689. 

Honored  Sir : — This  day  two  Indians  came  from  Pennacook,  viz., 
Job  Maramasquand  and  Peter  Muckamug,  who  report  that  damage 
will  undoubtedly  be  done  within  a  few  days  at  Piscataqua,  and  that 
Major  Waldron  in  particular  is  threatened.  The  Indians  can  give 
a  more  particular  account  to  your  Honor.  They  say  if  damage  be 
done,  the  blame  shall  not  be  on  them,  having  given  a  faithful  ac¬ 
count  of  what  they  hear,  and  are  upon  that  report  moved  to  leave 
their  habitation  and  cover  at  Pennacook.  I  am  constrained  from  a 
sense  of  my  duty,  and  from  love  to  my  countrymen,  to  give  the  in¬ 
formation  as  above,  so  with  my  humble  service  to  your  Honor,  and 
prayers  for  the  safety  of  an  endangered  people, 

I  am  your  humble  serv’t, 

Thos.  Henchman. 

A  messenger  was  at  once  dispatched  to  Cocheco  with  a  let¬ 
ter  from  the  Governor  and  Council  “To  Major  Richard  Wal¬ 
dron,  and  Mr.  Peter  Coffin,  or  either  of  them.  These  with 
all  possible  speed.” 

The  Governor’s  letter  is  dated  June  27th,  1689.  It  informs 
Major  Waldron  of  the  receipt  of  Major  Henchman’s  letter 
and  tells  him  that  “one  Hawkins  is  the  principal  designer” 
of  the  intended  mischief.  That  it  is  particularly  designed 
against  Waldron  and  Coffin,  and  that  they  are  to  be  betrayed 


i8 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


“on  a  pretention  of  trade.”  The  Governor  warns  them  to 
take  “care  of  their  own  safeguard  ’’and  to  report  “what  in¬ 
formation  they  may  receive  of  the  Indians’  motions.”  Un¬ 
fortunately  the  messenger  was  detained  at  Salisbury  ferry 
and  reached  Dover  only  after  the  tragedy  was  over. 

Mesandowit1,  an  Indian  chief,  took  supper  at  Waldron's 
house  that  night,  as  he  had  often  before.  During  supper  he 
said,  half  jestingly,  “Suppose  strange  Indians  come  now, 
Brother  Waldron  ?  ”  “I  have  but  to  raise  my  finger,”  replied 
Waldron,  boastfully,  “  and  a  hundred  soldiers  will  be  at  my 
command.”  Later  in  the  evening  two  squaws  applied  at  each 
garrison  house  for  leave  to  sleep  on  the  hearth  before  the 
kitchen  fire.  As  this  was  no  unusual  request,  it  was  readily 
granted,  and  they  were  shown  how  to  open  the  doors  in  ease 
they  might  want  to  go  out  during  the  night.  Tristram  Cof¬ 
fin  alone  refused  to  admit  them.  As  Waldron  was  barring 
his  doors  for  the  night,  one  of  the  squaws  quartered  with 
him  said  to  him,  “  White  father  big  wampum  ;  much  Indian 
come.”  Still  unsuspicious,  he  retired  to  dream  of  the  mor¬ 
row’s  gains. 

Just  before  dawn,  at  that  hour  when  night  is  darkest  and 
sleep  is  heaviest,  the.  treacherous  squaws  rose  softly  in  all  the 
houses,  and  opening  the  doors,  gave  a  long,  low  whistle.  A 
dog  at  Heard’s  garrison  answered  with  a  furious  barking, 
which  awoke  Elder  Wentworth.  He  hurried  down  stairs. 
The  savages  were  just  entering.  Pushing  the  oaken  door 
back  against  them,  the  old  man  of  seventy-three  threw  him¬ 
self  on  his  back  and  held  it  against  them  till  help  came.  Bul¬ 
lets  crashed  through  the  door  above  his  head,  but  the  heroic 
old  Puritan  did  not  flinch  and  the  garrison  was  saved.  Plac¬ 
ing  a  guard  at  Waldron’s  door,  the  waspish  horde  swarmed 
into  his  room.  He  sprang  from  his  bed,  and  though  over 
eighty  years  old,  he  drove  them  at  the  point  of  his  sword, 

'Sometimes  written  Mesambowit. 


f 

I 


w 


l 


i 


f 


CHRISTINE  OTIS. 


19 


through  three  or  four  rooms.  As  he  turned  back  for  other 
weapons,  they  followed  him  and  dealt  him  a  blow  with  a 
hatchet,  which  stunned  and  prostrated  him.  With  horrid 
threats,  they  ordered  his  family  to  get  supper  for  them. 
When  they  were  surfeited,  they  placed  the  old  man  in  his 
arm-chair  on  the  table  and  tortured  him.  They  gashed  him 
with  their  knives,  screaming  derisively,  “Now  we  cross  out 
our  accounts.”  They  cut  off  his  finger  joints  and  threw  them 
in  his  face,  asking  with  fiendish  glee,  “How  much  will  your 
fist  weigh  now,  Father  Waldron?”  Finally  as  he  fell  faint¬ 
ing  from  his  chair,  they  held  his  own  sword  under  him,  and 
death  came  to  his  relief.  His  daughter  and  his  little  grand¬ 
child,  Sarah  Gerrish,1  were  taken  captive,  his  son-in-law  killed, 
his  house  pillaged  and  burned.  The  houses  of  Peter  Coffin 
and  his  son  were  also  destroyed. 

Richard  Otis,  the  blacksmith  of  Dover,  occupied  the  next 
garrison  house  to  Waldron’s.  He  was  of  good  family,  and 
had  removed  from  Boston  to  Dover  in  1656.  At  the  time  of 
the  attack  he  was  well  on  in  years,  had  married  sons,  and 
was  living  with  his  third  wife,  Grizel2  Warren,  a  young  wom¬ 
an  of  less  than  half  his  years.  She  had  borne  him  two  chil¬ 
dren.  Hannah,  the  elder,  was  about  two  ;  but  the  delight  of 
her  old  father’s  heart,  was  his  three  months  old  baby,  Marga¬ 
ret,  fair  as  a  summer  daisy.  Otis  was  shot  dead  as  he  was 
rising  up  in  bed,  or  had  reached  the  window,  seeking  the 
cause  of  the  alarm.  The  savages  killed  his  little  daughter 
Hannah,  by  dashing  her  head  against  the  chamber  stairs.  His 
wife  and  baby  were  dragged  from  their  beds,  and  with  more  of 
his  family,  hurried  with  the  other  captives  to  the  woods  to 
begin  the  doleful  march  to  Canada. 

Meantime,  all  unconscious  of  these  horrors,  the  Widow 
Heard  and  her  sons,  with  her  daughter  and  son-in-law,  were 

'For  the  story  of  her  captivity  see  Drake’s  “Tragedies  of  the  Wilderness.” 

2I  have  often  found  the  name  written  Grizet  and  Grizit. 


20 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


returning  from  a  day’s  trading  at  Portsmouth.  The  soft  air 
of  the  summer  night  was  heavy  with  the  scent  of  the  sweet 
brier  ;  the  frog  croaked  hoarsely  from  his  solitary  pool  ;  an 
owl,  scared  from  his  hunting,  flitted  screeching  to  the  woods. 
No  other  sound  was  heard  save  the  plash  of  their  oars  as  they 
rowed  up  the  placid  river,  when  suddenly  on  the  midnight 
stillness,  burst  forth  the  awful  war-whoop.  Faster  they  plied 
their  oars,  not  daring  to  think  of  the  possible  fate  of  kindred 
left  safe  in  the  garrison  at  morn.  Silently  passing  a  body  of 
the  enemy,  they  landed  near  Waldron’s  garrison.  Seeing  a 
light  in  a  chamber  window  and  supposing  it  put  there  as  a 
signal  of  refuge  to  the  English,  they  demanded  entrance  at 
the  gate.  No  answer  being  returned,  they  shook  and  pound¬ 
ed  the  palisades,  in  agonized  tones  reproaching  their  friends 
within  for  not  opening  to  them.  At  last  one  of  the  young 
men  looked  through  a  crack  of  the  gate,  and  saw  to  his  hor¬ 
ror  an  Indian  with  his  gun  guarding  Waldron’s  door.  De¬ 
spair  seized  them  at  the  sight.  Mrs.  Heard  sank  fainting, 
and  declaring  she  could  go  no  further,  ordered  her  children 
to  leave  her.  After  much  entreaty,  feeling  that  all  would  be 
sacrificed  if  they  remained,  they  left  her  and  proceeded  to 
their  own  garrison.  On  the  way  they  met  one  of  Otis’s  sons, 
who  told  them  that  his  father  was  killed.  John  Ham  and 
his  wife,  Mrs.  Heard’s  daughter,  rowed  rapidly  down  the 
river  again,  to  give  the  alarm  at  Portsmouth.  Meantime 
Mrs.  Heard  had  revived  a  little,  and  dragged  herself  to  the 
garden,  hiding  there  among  the  barberry  bushes.  With  the 
approach  of  daylight,  she  fled  to  a  thicket  at  some  distance 
from  the  house.  A  savage  who  had  watched  her,  came  twice 
to  her  hiding  place,  pointed  his  pistol  at  her  and  ran  back 
with  loud  yells  to  the  house,  leaving  her  in  safety.  She  rec¬ 
ognized  him  as  a  young  Indian,  whom  at  the  time  of  the  seiz¬ 
ure  by  Waldron,  she  had  hidden  in  her  own  house  and  aided 
to  escape.  Thanking  God  for  her  preservation,  she  remained 


CHRISTINE  OTIS. 


21 


in  her  covert,  till  the  enemy  had  retired  with  their  captives. 
Then  stealing  along  by  the  river,  she  crossed  it  on  a  boom, 
and  reaching  Gerrish’s  garrison,  learned  of  the  brave  defence 
of  her  own  house  by  Elder  Wentworth,  and  of  the  safety  of 
its  inmates. 

At  eight  o’clock  in  the  morning,  John  Ham  and  his  wife, 
spent  with  fatigue  and  anxiety,  reached  Portsmouth.  A  let¬ 
ter  was  at  once  written  by  Richard  Waldron,  Jr.,  still  igno¬ 
rant  of  his  father’s  fate,  to  the  Governor  and  Council  in  Bos¬ 
ton,  giving  the  facts  so  far  as  related  by  Ham.  This  letter 
was  enclosed  in  the  following : 

“  To  the  Hon.  Maj.  Robert  Pike  of  Salisbu  ry — Haste  post  Haste : — 

Portsmouth,  28th  June,  1689. 

Honored  Sir : — We  herewith  send  you  an  account  of  the  Indians 
surprising  Cocheco  this  morning  which  we  pray  you  immediately  to 
post  away  to  the  Honorable,  the  Governor  and  Council  at  Bos¬ 
ton,  and  forward  our  present  assistance,  wherein  the  whole  country 
is  immediately  concerned. 

We  are  Sir  your  most  humble  servants, 

Richard  Martyn. 

William  Vaughn. 

Richard  Waldron,  Jr. 

Samuel  Wentworth. 

Benj.  Hull. 

This  dispatch  was  received  at  noon  by  Maj.  Pike,  who  im¬ 
mediately  forwarded  it  to  Boston  with  the  following : 

“To  the  much  Ho?iored  Sytnan  Bradstreet ,  Esq .,  Governor ,  and  the 
Honorable  Council  now  sitting  at  Boston,  these  present  with  all 
speed — Haste ,  post  Haste” : — 

Salisbury,  28th  June,  (about  noon)  1689. 

Much  Hotiored : — After  due  respect,  these  are  only  to  give  your 
honours  the  sad  accounts  of  the  last  night’s  providence  at  Cocheco, 


22 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


as  by  the  enclosed,  the  particulars  whereof  are  awful.  The  only 
wise  God,  who  is  the  keeper  that  neither  slumbereth  nor  sleepeth  is 
pleased  to  permit  what  is  done.  Possibly  it  may  be  either  better  or 
worse  than  this  account  renders  it.  As  soon  as  I  get  more  intelli¬ 
gence,  I  shall,  God  willing,  speed  it  to  your  honours,  praying  for 
speedy  order  or  advice  in  so  solemn  a  case.  I  have  dispatched  the 
intelligence  to  other  towns  with  advice  to  look  to  yurselves.  I  shall 
not  be  wanting  to  serve  in  what  I  may.  Should  have  waited  on  your 
honours  now,  had  I  been  well.  Shall  not  now  come  except  by  you 
commanded,  till  this  bustle  be  abated.  That  the  only  wise  God 
may  direct  all  your  weighty  affairs,  is  the  prayer  of  your  honours’ 
most  humble  servant, 

Robert  Pike.” 

The  post  went  spurring'  into  Boston  at  midnight  with  Pike’s 
dispatches,  and  the  next  noon  an  answer  was  returned  to 
Portsmouth  as  follows : 

“To  Messrs.  Richard  Martyn,  William  Vaughan,  Richard  Waldron, 
&*c. 

Boston,  29th  June,  1689. 

Gentlemen: — The  sad  account  given  by  yurselves  of  the  awful  hand 
of  God  in  permitting  the  heathen  to  make  such  desolations  upon  Co- 

checo  and  destruction  of  the  inhabitants  thereof . arrived  the 

last  night  about  twelve  o’clock.  Notice  thereof  was  immediately 
despatched  to  our  out  towns,  and  so  they  may  provide,  for  their  se¬ 
curity . The  narrative  you  give . was  laid  before  the 

whole  Convention  this  morning,  who  are  concerned  for  you  as  friends 
and  neighbors,  and  look  at  the  whole  to  be  involved  in  this  unhappy 
conjuncture  and  trouble  given  by  the  heathen  and  are  very  ready  to 
yield  you  all  assistance  as  they  may  be  capable  and  do  think  it  nec¬ 
essary  that  (if  it  be  not  done  already)  you  shall  fall  into  some  form 

. for  the  exercise  of  government  so  far  as  may  be  necessary 

for  your  safety . this  Convention  not  thinking  to  meet  under 

their  present  circumstances  to  exert  any  authority  within  your  Prov¬ 
ince.  Praying  God  to  direct  in  all  the  arduous  affairs  the  poor  peo¬ 
ple  of  this  country  have  at  present  to  engage  in,  and  to  rebuke  all 


~  oiwr.  r  i  amps  h  l  re 

n°  C.  /  rv : 


i  C)  'PV- 

WePr  0171  lie  kJ '  av?vtLy  (Mi y e/u&Ta/Iy  U>pcw 

kr  ShYuat/w njf  LiVmfrv  o  rt/v  ef  &  an  tjm:~  ev  cjv^ar  Orc/.ea 
tJiecJ?wmy/'^X-G.Y\.  Shillings  on  the  zy.'cl  ay  YYbecavhich 
tviU  be  (n  the  ye  aref irur Jj  or  d  <r?u,  the  us /w  cL*  Ycven  huMU 


ant 


fa  /  *•  i//  i  *  €  fa  wyt/  wi/'K/.t  y  a  lyiAZJ  iy  v>  /  cu<  c//<  Kt*-  tx  /  1/  t/,  vjts  », 

yttaJsaLcA'  ^/{.Jiacle  ^Jhffand \r  (j  an/ttet  (jotany:  iinfihb 
Jhntwej-t.of  one  yy?  Y erit  ^  ,^/Inn, grainy  o/ate  (ureaf 
(jeny^tnVaYut  Sie3  aj  rv-efrujs  aur  hand?  2y  tfSDec  -j.d 
lO  1/5  4  lO 


/SO' 


4 


>fih 


:2c: 


CTM/n.  /  /a 


CHRISTINE  OTIS. 


23 


our  enemies  desireing  you  would  give  us  advice  from  time  to  time 
of  the  occurences  with  you. 

Your  humble  servant, 

Isaac  Addington,  Sec’y. 

Per  order  of  Convention.” 

Aid  was  at  once  sent  to  Cocheco,  and  the  progress  of  events 
there  may  be  seen  from  the  following  letter,  dated 

“Capt.  Gerrish’s  Garrison.  House,  ) 
Cocheco,  5th  July,  1689.  f 

May  it  please  your  Honors  .-—On  Wednesday  evening  Major  Apple- 
ton  with  between  forty  and  fifty  men  (most  of  Ipswich)  arrived  here 
accompanied  by  Major  Pike,  and  yesterday  morning  with  wt  addi¬ 
tional  force  we  could  make,  marcht  into  the  woods  upon  track  of 
the  enemy  abt  twelve  miles  to  make  what  Discovery  they  could,  but 
returned  in  ye  evening  without  any  further  discovery  save  ye  dead 
body  of  one  of  the  captive  men,  they  carried  hence  nor  since  at  last 

has  any  of  the  enemy  been  seen  hereabout . Doubtless  the 

main  body  are  withdrawn  to  a  considerable  distance. 

Your  most  humble  servants, 

William  Vaughan. 

Richard  Waldron.” 

While  these  things  were  transpiring,  the  hellish  crew  and 
their  hapless  prisoners  were  marching  towards  Canada.  On 
the  morning  of  the  attack,  a  party  of  Cocheco  men  started  out 
in  pursuit,  but,  as  usual,  the  enemy  had  divided  their  forces. 
The  Cocheco  party  overtook  some  of  them  near  Conway,  and 
succeeded  in  recovering  some,  among  them  three  of  Otis’s 
daughters.  When  the  rest  of  the  family  reached  Canada,  we 
do  not  know.  On  their  arrival,  baby  Margaret  was  at  once 
taken  from  her  savage  captors  by  the  priests,  baptized  anew, 
and  under  the  name  of  Christine,  given  to  the  nuns  of  Mont¬ 
real  to  be  reared  in  the  faith  of  the  Romish  church.  When 
she  was  four  years  old,  her  mother  was  baptized  into  that 
church,  with  the  name  of  Mary  Madeleine,  and  the  next  Oc¬ 
tober,  married  Mr.  Philip  Robitaille,  “a  French  gentleman  of 


24 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


Montreal  in  the  service  of  Monsieur  Maricom.”  It  is  prob¬ 
able  that  the  little  girl  spent  most  of  her  childhood  with  the 
good  nuns  of  Montreal,  in  the  very  heart  of  that  religious 
community  founded  by  Maisonneuve  and  his  followers.  She 
would  have  been  fifteen  years  old  when  the  Deerfield  captives 
were  carried  to  Montreal.  As  in  her  coarse  serge  gown,  she 
passed  with  the  nuns  in  and  out  of  the  old  cathedral,  good 
Mr.  Williams  may  have  seen  her,  and  groaned  in  spirit  at 
the  sight.  She  must  have  been  a  girl  of  strong  character, 
for  she  absolutely  refused  to  take  the  veil,  though  persistent¬ 
ly  urged  to  it  by  priest  and  nun.  As  the  next  safest  thing 
for  the  interests  of  the  church,  they  married  her  at  sixteen  to 
a  Frenchman  of  Montreal,  named  Le  Beau.  The  following, 
translated  from  the  parish  records  of  Montreal,  bears  the  au¬ 
tographs  of  the  newly  wedded  pair,  and  of  the  bride’s  friend, 
Marie  Joseph  Sayer1 :  ^ 

“On  the  14th  day  of  June,  of  the  year  1707,  after  publishing  one 
ban,  and  dispensing  with  the  other  two  by  permission  from  M. 
Francois  Vachon  de  Belmont,  Grand  Vicar  of  Monseigneur,  the 
Bishop  of  Quebec,  I,  the  undersigned  priest,  officiating  as  curate  of 
the  parish  of  Ville-Marie,  having  obtained  the  mutual  consent  of 
Louis  Le  Bau,  aged  twenty-nine  years,  son  of  Jean  Le  Bau  and 
Etiennette  Lore,  inhabitants  of  the  parish  of  Boucherville  in  this 
Diocese,  of  the  one  part,  and  of  Christinne  Otesse,  aged  eighteen 
years,  daughter  of  the  defunct  Richard  hautesse2  and  Marie  Made¬ 
leine  la  garenne3  of  the  town  of  Douvres4,  in  old  England,  now  liv¬ 
ing  in  this  parish,  of  the  other  part, — having  married  them  accord¬ 
ing  to  the  rites  of  our  Holy  Mother  Church,  in  presence  of  the  said 
Jean  Bau,  father  of  the  bridegroom,  of  the  Sieur  Dominiqua  Thau- 
mur  Surgeon,  of  Philippe  Robitail  Master  cooper,  father-in-law  of 
the  said  bride.  The  aforesaid  Jean  Bau  and  Robitail  have  declared 
that  they  could  not  sign  this  certificate  according  to  the  ordinance.” 

Christine’s  husband  may  have  entertained  her  with  the  story 

'See  “Story  of  a  York  Family.”  '2Otis.  3Warren.  4Dover. 


CHRISTINE  OTIS. 


25 


of  Thomas  Baker,  an  English  youth,  one  of  the  Deerfield  cap¬ 
tives,  who  had  tried  to  run  away  from  Montreal  that  summer, 
and  having  been  caught  by  the  Indians,  would  have  been 
burned  at  the  stake,  had  he  not  escaped  from  his  tormentors, 
and  fled  to  the  house  of  a  Frenchman,  who  ransomed  him. 

The  Governor  had  ordered  him  put  in  irons  and  closely 
imprisoned  for  four  months,  “and  served  him  right,”  Le  Beau 
may  have  said.  “ Pauvre  gar  con ,”  perhaps  Christine  sighed, 
for  the  story  of  Baker’s  adventures  may  have  set  her  thinking 
of  her  own  captivity,  and  she  may  have  wished  that  she  could 
go  back  to  New  England  once  more,  and  see  the  spot  where 
she  was  born.  These  longings  were  probably  dispelled,  and 
Christine  reconciled  to  her  lot,  by  the  births  of  her  own  three 
children.  We  hear  no  more  of  her  until  the  arrival  of  Ma¬ 
jor  Stoddard  at  Montreal. 

Mr.  Sheldon  had  returned  in  1707,  from  his  last  expedition 
for  the  redemption  of  the  captives,  but  many  more  English 
were  still  held  in  Canada,  among  them  Eunice  Williams,  the 
eldest  daughter  of  the  minister  of  Deerfield.  Accordingly 
in  November,  1713,  commissioners  were  again  sent  by  Gov. 
Dudley  to  Canada  to  negotiate  the  redemption  of  Eunice  and 
the  other  New  England  captives.  At  the  head  of  the  com¬ 
mission,  was  Captain  John  Stoddard  of  Northampton,  son  of 
the  minister  of  that  place.  Mr.  Williams  accompanied  him. 
Martin  Kellogg,  one  of  the  Deerfield  captives,  who  had  finally 
escaped  with  Baker  from  Montreal,  went  as  interpreter. 
There  were  three  other  attendants,  of  whom  one  was  Baker 
himself.  Both  Kellogg  and  he  had  become  noted  characters 
since  their  flight  from  Montreal.  He  was  Captain  Thomas 
Baker  now.  The  year  before  he  had  gone  up  the  Connecti¬ 
cut  river  with  a  scouting  party,  crossed  over  to  the  Pemige- 
wasset,  and  at  its  confluence  with  one  of  its  tributaries — since 
called  Baker’s  river, — he  had  killed  the  famous  sachem,  Wat- 
tanummon,  without  the  loss  of  a  man.  Taking  as  much  of 


26 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


the  Sachem’s  beaver  as  the  party  could  carry,  he  burned  the 
rest  and  went  down  the  Merrimac  to  Dunstable,  and  thence 
to  Boston.  The  Council  Records  of  the  8th  of  May,  give 
his  report  of  his  proceedings  and  his  application  for  scalp 
money.  He  produced  but  one  scalp  but  prayed  “  for  a  further 
allowance  for  more  killed  than  they  could  recover  their  scalps 
as  reported  by  the  enemy  themselves.”  After  some  delay 
the  General  Court,  willing  to  encourage  and  reward  such 
bravery  and  enterprise  as  Baker  had  shown,  allowed  him  and 
his  company  twenty  pounds,  “for  one  enemy  Indian  besides 
that  which  they  scalped,  which  seems  very  probable  to  be 
slain.”  On  the  16th  of  February,  1714,  the  commissioners 
reached  Quebec.  We  have  the  record  of  their  negotiations 
with  the  governor  of  Canada.  De  Vaudreuil  assures  them 
that  all  the  captives  are  at  liberty  to  go  home ;  the  more,  the 
better,  for  him  and  his  country ;  and  his  blessing  shall  go 
with  them.  He  gives  the  ambassadors  permission  to  mingle 
unrestrained  with  the  English,  and  to  have  free  speech  with 
those  in  religious  houses.  Learning  that  the  priests  and 
some  of  the  laity  are  terrifying  and  threatening  the  prisoners 
against  returning,  the  commissioners  complain  to  the  Gover¬ 
nor,  who  replies  that  he  “  can  as  easily  alter  the  course  of  the 
waters  as  prevent  the  priests’  endeavors.”  Finally,  under  the 
pretext  that  the  captives  have  been  naturalized  by  the  King, 
he  refuses  to  let  any  return  except  those  under  age.  Dis¬ 
couraged  by  this  unexpected  obstacle,  and  in  order  to  be 
nearer  the  captives,  the  Commissioners  return  to  Montreal, 
arriving  there  on  the  3rd  of  March,  1714. 

Christine’s  husband  had  died  a  few  months  before.  The 
young  widow  had  doubtless  heard  of  the  presence  of  the 
ambassadors  in  the  city,  as  they  passed  through  to  Quebec, 
and  all  her  old  longing  for  release  returned  upon  her. 
While  the  naturalization  question  is  pending,  Mr.  Williams, 
whose  heart  is  occupied  with  Eunice’s  affairs,  demands  that 


^  'cCuts  tof  &crfeeffi 
Wyff>rwmc&  of  J1  cb^n/p J'liL  ■ 

fAall  Ae>  equal  Cc  Crie.feavrvy'rvcaqllt 
a/ndfoedf  iqra/yruS  f  cal  Aid fU/Oi/T 
fAcy/ad  fl/ltHi  Toy  Ulley  (rtf/d/dl/ 
Hoim  atfdlafaf IJ^cu'u  oM/ncU  dig /v 
Curvflulli/njs  f  llimce.  and,  fAadl  d 
ft  accented  i/a  all '  {day-rnurvU  cund  con 

TreafurjP0ET5M0UTF 

arcrZYJ&h  (dAy  Order  of 
w  g/*>  (S  ^f6 


JZ45  L 


wM .  Ik^rJj^ruW 


/ 


\ 


- 


CHRISTINE  OTIS. 


27 


“  men  and  women  shall  not  be  entangled  by  the  marriages 
they  may  have  contracted,  nor  parents  by  children  born  to 
them  in  captivity.”  Christine  sees  here  her  chance.  We  may 
assume  that  she  seeks  an  interview  with  the  commissioners 
and  tells  them  her  wishes.  Brave  Captain  Baker,  a  bachelor 
of  thirty-two,  is  smitten  with  the  charms  of  the  youthful 
widow.  He  undertakes  her  cause.  The  Governor  cunningly 
concedes  that  French  women  may  return  with  their  English 
husbands, — that  English  women  shall  not  be  compelled  to 
stay  by  their  French  husbands, — but  about  the  children  he 
“  will  take  time  to  consider.”  Christine  now  reciprocating 
the  passion  of  her  lover  becomes  doubly  anxious  to  return. 
The  Intendant  and  the  Governor  violently  oppose  her.  By 
order  of  the  former,  the  property  of  her  deceased  husband 
is  sold,  and  the  money  is  withheld  from  her.  The  priests 
bring  their  authority  to  bear  upon  her.  “  If  you  persist  in 
going,”  they  say,  “  you  shall  not  have  your  children  ;  they 
must  be  nurtured  in  the  bosom  of  the  Holy  church.”  Her 
mother  by  turns  coaxes,  chides  and  tries  to  frighten  her  from 
her  resolution.  “What  can  you  do  in  New  England?”  she 
says  to  her.  “  There  are  no  bake  shops  there.  You  know 
nothing  about  making  bread  or  butter,  or  managing  as  they 
do  there.”  All  this  Christine  confides  to  her  lover,  who  kisses 
away  her  tears  and  calms  her  fears.  If  she  will  but  trust  to 
him,  and  go  with  him,  he  tells  her,  his  mother  shall  teach 
her  all  she  need  to  know,  and  his  government  will  see  to  it 
that  her  children  are  restored  to  her.  In  the  midst  of  his 
wooing,  Captain  Baker  is  sent  back  to  Boston  by  Stoddard  to 
report  progress,  and  demand  instructions.  He  was  too  good 
a  soldier  not  to  obey  orders,  though  he  would,  doubtless,  have 
preferred  to  make  a  short  cut  through  the  difficulties,  by 
running  off  the  prisoners  and  taking  the  risk  of  re-capture. 
In  his  absence  Christine  secretly  conveys  her  personal  effects 
on  board  a  barque  bound  for  Quebec,  intending  to  follow, 


28 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


and  put  herself  under  the  protection  of  Stoddard  and  his 
party  who  have  returned  thither  and  are  trying  to  collect  the 
captives  there.  The  Intendant  orders  Christine’s  goods 
ashore,  and  forbids  her  to  leave  Montreal.  In  vain  the  Com¬ 
missioners  protest.  “  She  is  a  prisoner  of  the  former  war,” 
replies  the  Intendant,  “  and  cannot  be  claimed  by  the  English 
under  the  present  Articles  of  Peace.”  But  “  Love  laughs  at 
locksmiths,”  and  when  Captain  Baker  returns  from  his 
embassy  and  tells  her  that  the  good  brigantine  Leopard  is 
probably  then  lying  at  Quebec,  and  that  she  must  go  with 
him,  now  or  never,  she  does  not  hesitate.  We  have  no  record 
of  her  flitting,  except  the  pithy  sentence  in  Stoddard’s  Journal 
announcing  Capt.  Baker’s  return  from  New  England,  “bring¬ 
ing  with  him  one  English  prisoner  from  Montreal.”  We 
cannot  doubt  that  this  one  is  Christine. 

The  anger  of  the  Intendant,  when  he  learned  of  her  diso¬ 
bedience  and  escape,  may  be  better  imagined  than  described. 
De  Vaudreuil  used  his  most  politic  endeavors  to  get  posses¬ 
sion  of  her  again,  promising  if  she  might  be  returned  to 
Montreal,  he  would  send  her  under  escort  by  land  to  New 
England.  Stoddard  knowing  the  value  of  “  A  bird  in  the 
hand,”  refused  to  give  her  up.  The  Governor  finally  threat¬ 
ened  if  she  went,  to  give  her  children  to  the  Ursuline  sisters 
and  never  let  her  see  them  again.  But  her  lover  triumphed, 
and  she  embarked  with  him  for  Boston,  where  they  arrived 
on  the  2 1  st  of  September,  1714. 

On  the  Brookfield  land  records,  Dec.  9th,  of  the  same  year, 
there  is  a  grant  of  “  upland  and  meadow  ”  to  “  Margarett 
Otice,  alias  Le  Bue,  one  that  was  a  prisoner  in  Canada  and 
lately  came  from  thence,  provided  she  returns  not  to  live  in 
Canada,  but  tarries  in  this  province  and  marries  to  Captain 
Thomas  Baker.”  Christine  tarried  and  married.  The  ad¬ 
vent  of  Captain  Baker,  with  his  foreign  wife  and  her  strange 
speech,  and  her  Romish  observances,  must  have  made  quite 


CHRISTINE  OTIS. 


29 


a  sensation  among  the  straight-laced  Puritans  of  Northamp¬ 
ton.  Good  Parson  Stoddard  took  her  at  once  in  hand,  how¬ 
ever,  and  she  became  a  Protestant,  being  rebaptized  by  him 
with  her  original  name  of  Margaret.  The  birth  of  her  first 
child  by  Thomas  Baker,  stands  to-day  on  the  Northampton 
records  as  follows  :  “June  5,  1716,  Christine  Baker,  daughter  to 
Thomas  and  Margaret.” 

About  1717,  Christine  removed  with  her  husband  to  Brook¬ 
field,  Mass.  vShortly  afterwards  her  half  brother,  Philip 
Robitaille,  came  from  Montreal  to  visit  her  and  worked  a  year 
on  her  farm.  It  was  probably  when  he  returned  to  Canada, 
that  she  undertook  a  journey  thither,  in  the  hope  of  getting 
possession  of  her  children,  but  the  Governor  had  kept  his 
word,  and  she  was  deprived  of  them  forever.  In  1719,  Cap¬ 
tain  Baker  was  the  first  Representative  to  the  General  Court 
from  Brookfield.  In  1727,  he  was  tried  at  Springfield  for 
blasphemy,  on  the  following  charge:  “  There  being  a  dis¬ 
course  of  God’s  having  in  His  providence  put  in  Joseph  Jen¬ 
nings,  Esq.,  of  Brookfield,  a  Justice  of  the  peace,”  Captain 
Baker  said,  ‘  If  I  had  been  with  the  Almighty,  I  would  have 
taught  Him  better.’  The  verdict  of  the  jury  was  “  Not 
guilty.”  The  same  year  Christine  received  a  long  and  ear¬ 
nest  letter  from  Monsieur  Seguenot,  the  Seminary  priest,  who 
had  been  her  former  confessor  at  Montreal,  urging  her  to  re¬ 
turn  to  Canada  and  to  the  Romish  church.  The  letter  being 
of  course  in  French,  and  “written  in  a  crabbed  and  scarcely 
legible  hand,”  her  husband  advised  her  “  to  have  it  copied  in 
order  to  get  some  person  to  answer  it,”  in  order  to  convince 
the  priest  of  the  folly  of  any  further  attempts  to  convert  her. 
The  letter  came  to  the  notice  of  an  influential  lady  of  Boston, 
who  showed  it  to  Governor  Burnet  and  urged  him  to  answer 
it  for  Christine,  which  he  did. 

“My  dear  Christine,”  the  priest  begins,  “whom  I  may  call  my 
spiritual  daughter,  since  I  esteemed  and  directed  you  as  such 


30 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


whilst . you  had  the  happiness  of  making  one  of  the  family  of 

Jesus,  Maria,  Joseph,  Joachim  and  Anne, . and  that  you,  as  well 

as  Madame  Robitail  your  mother,  (whose  confessor  I  have  become, 

. )  were  of  the  Number  of  about  Two  Hundred  Women  of  the  best 

fashion  of  Ville  Marie,  who  then  made  up  the  mystical  Body  of  that 
holy  Association.  I  own  also  that  all  our  Members  of  the  Seminary, as 
well  as  all  Mount  Real,  were  edified  with  your  Carriage,  you  being  so¬ 
ber,  and  living  as  a  true  Christian  and  good  Catholic  having  no  remains 
of  the  unhappy  Leaven  of  the  irreligion  and  errors  of  the  English  out 
of  which  M.  Meriel  had  brought  you  as  well  as  your  Mother,  taking 
you  out  of  the  deep  darkness  of  Heresy  to  bring  you  into  the  Light 

of  the  only  true  Church  and  the  only  Spouse  of  Jesus  Christ.” . 

“The  Catholic  Church  is  the  only  mystical  Ark  of  Noah  in  which 
Salvation  is  found.  All  those  who  are  gone  out  of  it,  and  will  not 
return  to  it,  will  unhappily  perish,  not  in  a  deluge  of  Waters,  but  in 
the  Eternal  Flames  of  the  last  Judgment . Who  has  so  far  be¬ 

witched  and  blinded  you  as  to  make  you  leave  the  Light  and  Truth, 
to  carry  you  amongst  the  English  where  there  is  nothing  but  Darkness 
and  Irreligion?”  The  priest  goes  on  to  appeal  to  her  conscience, 
and  to  her  love  for  her  children  in  Canada,  as  incentives  to  her  re¬ 
turn.  “  Dear  Christine,”  he  says,  “poor  stray  Sheep,  come  back  to 


your  Heavenly  Father,” . own  yourself  guilty . to  have  for¬ 

saken  the  Lord,  the  only  Spring  of  the  healing  Waters  of  Grace,  to  run 
after  private  Cisterns  which  cannot  give  them  to  you . hearken 


to  the  stings  of  your  Conscience . Read  the  two  Letters  I  send 

you  concerningthe  happy  and  Christian  Death  of  your  Daughter; . 

weigh  with  care  the  particular  Circumstances  by  which  she  owns 
herself  infinitely  indebted  to  the  Mercy  of  God,  and  the  watchful¬ 
ness  of  her  Grandmother  for  having  withstood  her  Voyage  to  New 
England,  and  not  suffered  her  to  follow  you  thither.  Consider  with 
what  inward  peace  she  received  all  her  Sacraments  and  with  what 
tranquility  she  Died  in  the  Bosom  of  the  Church.  I  had  been  her 
Confessor  for  many  Years  before  her  Marriage,  and  going  to  Quebec 
where  she  lived  with  her  Husband  peaceably  and  to  the  Edification 
of  all  the  Town.  Oh!  happy  Death!  my  dear  Christine,  would  you 
Die  like  her  as  predestinated;  come  in  all  haste,  and  abjure  yourApos- 


CHRISTINE  OTIS. 


31 


tasy  and  live  as  a  true  Christian  and  Catholick  else  fear  and  be  per- 
swaded  that  your  Death  will  be  unhappy  and  attended  with  madness 

and  despair  as  that  of  Calvin  was,  and  also  that  of  Luther . 

Once  more,  dear  Christine,  return  to  this  Land  where  you  have 
received  your  Baptism  and  which  I  may  say  has  given  you  Life. 
Prevail  with  your  Husband  to  resolve  on  the  same  undertaking.  The 
Lloly  church  will  on  your  abjuring  your  Errors  receive  you  with  open 
Arms,  as  well  as  Mr.  Robitail  and  his  Wife,  your  Mother.  You  shall 
not  want  Bread  here,  and  if  your  Husband  will  have  Land,  we  shall 
find  him  some  in  the  island  of  Montreal.  But  if  he  doth  not  desire 
any,  and  hath  a  Trade,  he  shall  not  want  for  Work.  But  what  is 
most  essential  is  that  you  shall  be  here  both  of  you  enabled  to  work  out 
your  Salvation,  which  you  cannot  do  where  you  are,  since  there  you  are 

notin  the  Mystical  Ark  of  Noah,  which  is  the  Catholic  church, . 

in  which  your  Daughter  was  bred  and  in  which  She  died . I 

await  your  answer  to  my  letter,  and  am,  dear  Christine,  entirely 
yours  in  Jesus  and  Marie.  Seguenot, 

Priest  of  the  Seminary  at  Ville-Marie,  you  know  me  very  well. 

At  Ville-Marie,  the  5th  of  June,  1727.’’ 

Gov.  Burnet  begins  his  reply  as  follows  : 

Boston,  Jan.  8,  172S-9. 

Madam  : — I  am  very  sensible  of  the  Disadvantages  I  lie  under  in 
not  being  able  to  address  myself  to  you  under  as  endearing  a  Title 
as  that  which  Mr.  Segueuot  takes  to  himself.  But  I  don’t  doubt 
but  your  good  sense  will  put  you  on  your  guard  against  such  flatter¬ 
ing  expressions  which  are  commonly  made  use  of  for  want  of  good 

Arguments.” . “Mr.  Seguenot  has  proved  nothing  of  what  he 

should  have  done  in  that  very  place  of  his  Letter  where  he  seems 
resolved  to  muster  up  all  his  strength  to  overpower  us.  But  because 
he  has  scattered  several  things  up  and  down  in  his  letter  which  might 
startle  you,  I  will  take  the  pains  to  go  through  it,  from  one  end  to 
the  other,  to  make  you  feel  the  weakness  and  false  reasoning  of  it.” 

The  Governor  then  proceeds  with  calmness  to  refute  the 


32 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


priest’s  assertions  and  expose  his  specious  arguments.  He 
shows  Christine  how  Christ  gives  “visible  marks”  by  which 
his  true  followers  may  be  known.  “By  this  shall  ye  know 
that  ye  are  my  disciples  if  ye  have  love  one  to  another,” 
“which,”  says  Governor  Burnet,  “can  never  agree  to  a  perse¬ 
cuting  church,  as  the  Roman  is.”  He  points  her  to  Paul’s 
description  of  false  Christians  in  the  Epistle  to  Timothy, 
“Of  this  sort  are  they  which  creep  into  houses  and  lead  cap¬ 
tive  silly  women  ;  ”  and  asks,  “Would  not  anybody  say  that 
the  Apostle  points  directly  to  those  Confessors  who  pretend 
to  direct  the  Consciences  of  the  Ignorant  and  chiefly  of  Wom¬ 
en  in  the  Church  of  Rome  ?  ” 

Alluding  to  the  priest’s  offer  of  lands  and  work  to  Captain 
Baker,  the  Governor  says,  “It  is  hoped  that  Mr.  Seguenot 
does  this  out  of  ignorance.  But  for  Persons  that  know  what 
it  is  to  live  in  a  free  Country,  to  go  and  throw  themselves 
headlong  into  the  Clutches  of  an  absolute  Government,  it  can¬ 
not  be  imagined  that  they  can  do  such  a  thing,  unless  they 
have  lost  their  Senses.”  He  concludes  by  telling  her  to  send 
this  letter  to  Canada  and  let  it  be  answered,  that  she  may  see 
both  sides,  and  “Fix  on  what  is  best  for  the  salvation  of  your 
soul  and  the  Happiness  of  your  Life,  which  is  the  hearty  de¬ 
sire,  Madam  of  your  unknown  but  humble  servant.”  The 
Governor’s  letter,  which  was  in  French,  together  with  that 
of  the  priest,  was  afterwards  translated  and  printed  in  Bos¬ 
ton. 

By  the  sale  of  their  Brookfield  property  to  a  speculator  in 
1732,  Captain  Baker  and  his  wife  became  impoverished. 
They  lived  for  awhile  at  Mendon,  Mass.,  where  we  find  Chris¬ 
tine  connected  with  the  church, — and  were  for  a  short  time 
at  Newport,  R.  I.,  and  finally  removed  to  Dover,  N.  H.  In 
the  latter  part  of  the  year  1734,  Baker’s  health  gave  out  en¬ 
tirely,  and  the  next  year  his  wife  applied  to  the  Legislature 
for  leave  to  keep  a  tavern  for  the  support  of  her  family. 


CHRISTINE  OTIS. 


33 


‘  ‘  The  humble  petition  of  Christina  Baker ,  the  wife  of  Capt.  Thomas 
Baker ,  of  Dover ,  showeth  : 

That  your  petitioner  in  her  childhood  was  captured  by  the  In¬ 
dians  in  the  town  of  Dover,  aforesaid,  (where  she  was  born)  and 
carried  to  Canada,  and  there  bro’t  up  in  the  Roman  superstition  and 
Idolitry.  And  was  there  married  and  well  settled  and  had  three 
children  ;  and  after  the  Death  of  her  Husband  she  had  a  very  Great 
Inclination  to  see  her  own  country,  and  with  great  Difficulty  ob¬ 
tained  permission  to  Return,  leaving  all  her  substance  and  her  chil¬ 
dren,  for  by  no  means  could  she  obtain  leave  for  them  ;  and  since 
your  petitioner  has  been  married  to  Capt.  Baker,  she  did  undertake 
the  hazzard  and  fatieug  of  a  Journey  to  Canada  again,  in  hopes,  by 
the  interest  of  Friends,  to  get  her  children  ;  but  all  in  vain  !  so  that 
her  losses  are  trebbled  on  her.  First,  the  loss  of  her  house,  well 
fitted  and  furnished,  and  the  lands  belonging  to  it  ;  second,  the  loss 
of  considerable  part  of  her  New  England  substance  in  her  last  jour¬ 
ney  to  Canada,  and  thirdly,  the  Loss  of  her  children.  Yet  still  she 
hath  this  comfort  since  her  return,  that  she  is  alsoo  returned  into 
the  Bossum  of  the  Protestent  church  ;  for  such  she  most  heartily 
thanks  Almighty  God.  And  now  your  petitioner,  having  a  large 
family  to  support,  and  by  the  chances  and  Changes  of  fortune  here, 
is  Reduced  to  very  low  circumstances,  and  her  husband  past  his 
Labour.  Your  petitioner  ladely  made  her  case  known  to  several 
Gents  in  the  Government  of  the  Massachusetts,  who  out  of  a  char¬ 
itable  Disposition  did  supply  yo’r  Petitioner  with  something  to  set 
her  in  a  way  to  subsist  her  family  ;  and  also  advis’d  to  keep  a  house  of 

Entertainment,  and  the  General  assembly  of  that  Government . 

made  her  a  present  of  500  acres  of  land  in  the  Province  of  Maine, 
and  put  it  under  the  care  of  Coll.  William  Pepperell,  Esq.,  for  the 
use  of  your  Petitioner  (exclusive  of  her  husband’s  having  anything 
to  do  with  it.)  Now  your  Petitioner  by  the  help  she  hath  had  has 
bot  a  lot  of  land  and  Built  a  house  on  it  on  the  contry  Rhoade  from 
Dover  Meeting  House  to  Cocheco  Boome  ;  and  have  Bedding  and 
other  necessaros  fit  for  a  Public  House  for  Entertainment  of  Trav¬ 
ellers,  &c.” 

The  former  taverner,  not  keeping  an  orderly  house,  had 


34 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


been  refused  a  continuance  of  his  license  by  the  Selectmen. 
Christine  having  submitted  her  plan  to  their  approval,  had 
applied  to  the  Courts  for  a  license.  The  judges,  probably  for 
political  reasons,  refused  it  to  her,  and  renewed  the  license  to 
the  former  inn-keeper. 

The  Legislature  on  hearing  Christine’s  petition  voted  that 
her  “  prayer  be  granted,” — and  she  kept  her  house  of  entertain¬ 
ment  at  Dover  for  many  years.  Her  husband  died  of  “the 
lethargy”  at  Roxbury  in  1753,  while  on  a  visit  to  some  cousins 
there.  Her  mother,  Madame  Robitaille,  died  in  Canada  at  the 
age  of  ninety,  being  bedridden  the  last  years  of  her  life. 

Christine  or  Margaret  Otis  Baker  closed  her  eventful  life 
on  Feb.  23,  1773,  leaving  a  large  posterity.  “She  lived,”  says 
her  obituary,  “in  good  reputation,  being  a  pattern  of  indus¬ 
try,  prudence  and  economy.  She  bore  a  tedious  illness  with 
much  patience,  and  met  death  with  calmness.” 


ESTHER  WHEELWRIGHT 

MOTHER  SUPERIOR  OF  THE  URSUUNES  OF  QUEBEC 
From  a  portrait  sent  to  her  mother  in  //6/ 


ESTHER  WHEELWRIGHT. 


In  the  first  part  of  the  decade  immediately  preceding  the 
landing  of  the  Pilgrims,  two  lads  from  the  middle  class  of 
society,  entered  Sydney  College  at  the  University  of  Cam¬ 
bridge.  Of  these,  the  elder,  John  Wheelwright,  was  born  on 
the  Lincolnshire  fens,  not  far  from  old  Boston.  His  fellow 
student,  Oliver  Cromwell,  first  saw  the  light  at  Huntingdon. 

While  we  have  no  record  that  either  of  these  youths  dis¬ 
tinguished  himself  in  his  college  studies,  we  have  no  scant 
testimony  to  the  excellence  of  both  in  athletic  sports.  Cot¬ 
ton  Mather  says,  that  he  had  heard  that  “when  Wheelwright 
was  a  young  spark  at  the  University,  he  was  noted  for  a  more 
than  ordinary  stroke  at  wrestling.”  Cromwell’s  biographer 
declares,  that  at  Cambridge  he  was  far  “more  famous  for 
football,  cudgelling  and  wrestling  than  for  study.” 

Judge  Bell,  in  his  memoir  of  Wheelwright,  quotes  the  Lord 
Protector  himself,  as  being  reported  to  have  said,  “I  remem¬ 
ber  the  time  when  I  was  more  afraid  of  meeting  Wheelwright 
at  football,  than  I  have  been  since  of  meeting  an  army  in  the 
field,  for  I  was  infallibly  sure  of  being  tripped  up  by  him.” 

It  was  hardly  to  be  expected  that  these  pugnacious  young 
athletes  would  have  no  convictions,  or  would  prudently  re¬ 
frain  from  expressing  their  sentiments  on  subjects,  that  were 
at  that  time  rending  the  political  and  religious  world.  As 
vicar  of  the  little  hamlet  of  Bilsby  in  Lincolnshire,  John 


36 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


Wheelwright  became  recognized  as  a  Puritan  leader.  Si¬ 
lenced  for  non-conformity,  about  1633,  Wheelwright  natur¬ 
ally  followed  many  of  his  Lincolnshire  friends  and  neigh¬ 
bors  to  America,  landing  in  Boston,  May  26,  1636.  Here  he 
was  warmly  welcomed  by  his  wife’s1  brother,  William  Hutch¬ 
inson,  and  by  Rev.  John  Cotton,  to  whose  preaching  in  St. 
Botolph’s  church  in  old  Boston,  he  had  often  listened. 

Soon  admitted  to  the  church  in  Boston,  the  brilliant  young 
Puritan  divine  became  such  a  favorite  with  the  people,  that 
many  wished  him  to  be  settled  with  Pastor  Wilson  and  Mr. 
Cotton,  as  second  teacher  of  the  church  in  Boston.  Cotton 
favored  the  plan,  but  Wilson  and  Winthrop  opposed  it,  on 
the  ground  that  Wheelwright,  to  a  certain  extent,  shared  the 
religious  opinions  of  his  sister-in-law,  Anne  Hutchinson.  It 
was  therefore  decided,  that  Wheelwright  should  have  charge 
of  a  new  church  to  be  gathered  in  what  is  now  Quincy.2 

From  this  time  on,  the  great  Antinomian  controversy 
waged  fiercely.  In  March,  1637,  John  Wheelwright  preached 
his  famous  Fast  Day  Sermon,  that  led  to  his  arraignment  by 
the  General  Court,  to  answer  to  the  charge  of  sedition  and 
contempt.  In  the  strife  that  followed,  Wheelwright  showed 
that  he  had  not  forgotten  that  “  more  than  ordinary  stroke 
at  wrestling,”  for  which  the  youth  had  been  famous. 

At  length  the  Synod,  assembled  at  Newtown,3  August  30, 
1637,  declared,  that  eighty-two  errors  of  doctrine  were  ram¬ 
pant,  and  making  sad  havoc  among  the  Puritan  flocks.  This 
was  the  view  halloo,  for  which  the  General  Court  was  waiting, 
to  set  about -hunting  down  the  heretical  wolves, — and  soon 
they  were  in  at  the  death. 

In  November,  Wheelwright  was  disfranchised,  and  ban- 

1  Wheelwright’s  2nd  wife  was  Mary  Hutchinson.  His  first  wife  was  Marie 
Storre  or  Storer  of  Bilsbee. 

‘^Braintree  or  Mt.  Wollaston. 

3Cambridge. 


ESTHER  WHEELWRIGHT 


37 


ished,  with  orders  to  settle  his  affairs,  and  be  gone  from  the 
Patent,1  within  fourteen  days.  To  the  added  condition,  that 
he  should  not  preach  again  during  his  stay  in  Massachusetts, 
Wheelwright  gave  a  scornful  refusal. 

It  was  a  bitter  winter.  Beyond  the  Merrimac,  the  snow 
lay  three  feet  on  a  level,  from  the  4th  of  November  til]  the 
5th  of  March. 

The  place  of  Wheelwright’s  sojourn  during  that  dreary 
winter  cannot  be  definitely  .stated,  but  as  early  as  April,  he 
had  bought  of  the  Indians  the  land  at  Squamscot  Falls,  now 
the  site  of  Exeter,  N.  FI.2  He  was  soon  joined  by  several  of 
his  Massachusetts  friends  and  parishioners.  The  land  was 
cleared,  a  church  gathered,  wise  regulations  for  self  govern¬ 
ment  agreed  upon,3  and  all  seemed  prosperous,  when  the 
claim  of  Massachusetts  to  the  region  of  the  Piscataqua,  “  and 
the  desire  of  some  of  the  Exeter  people  to  come  under  the 
jurisdiction  of  the  Bay  Colony,  made  it  prudent  for  Wheel¬ 
wright  and  his  flock  to  seek  a  new  home.” 

In  1641,  some  of  the  Exeter  congregation  got  permission 
from  Thomas  Gorges,  nephew  of  Sir  Ferdinand,  and  Deputy 
Governor  of  the  province  of  Maine,  to  occupy  the  land  be¬ 
tween  the  Ogunquit  and  Kennebunk  Rivers,  from  the  sea, 
eight  miles  inland,  and  two  years  later,  “Mr.  John  Wheel¬ 
wright,  minister  of  God’s  word,  and  others,  “  are  granted  abso¬ 
lute  power,  to  sett  forth  any  lott  or  bounds  unto  any  man 
that  shall  come  to  inhabit.” . 

Thus  the  towns  of  Exeter,  N.  H.,  and  Wells,  Maine,  were 
both  founded  by  the  Antinomian  exile  and  his  friends.  As 
a  pioneer  in  two  frontier  settlements,  the  athletic  training  of 

'Massachusetts. 

2It  has  been  said  that  he  bought  land  there  by  the  famous  deed  of  1629, 
before  leaving  England. 


3“The  Combination.” 


33 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


our  Puritan  preacher  must  have  stood  him  in  good  stead. 
The  historian  of  Wells,  in  speaking  of  the  connection  of  the 
Rev.  John  Wheelwright  with  that  town  adds,  “  He  left  sons 
whose  energies  were  instrumental  in  building  it  up,  and  giv¬ 
ing  it  an  influential  position  in  the  public  councils ; — men 
whose  services  were  of  immense  benefit  in  those  early  days, 
when  souls  were  exposed  to  the  most  severe  tests  of  a  true 
citizenship.” 

Samuel,  son  of  the  Reverend  John  Wheelwright,  filled 
successively  all  offices  of  trust  in  the  gift  of  his  townsmen. 

“In  1677  he  was  the  representative  of  York  and  Wells. 
In  1681  he  was  one  of  the  Provincial  Council,  and  later  he 
became  Judge  of  Probate  and  of  the  Court  of  Common 
Pleas.” 

Picture  the  Wells  of  two  hundred  years  ago.  On  a  plateau, 
perhaps  a  mile  back  from  the  ocean,  a  narrow  clearing, 
bounded  on  three  sides  by  a  vast  and  gloomy  wilderness. 
A  stony  highway  following  the  trend  of  the  ridge.  On  one 
side  of  the  road,  a  row  of  houses  scattered  far  apart.  Opposite, 
the  rocky  slopes  descending,  subdued  by  incessant  toil,  bear 
a  scanty  harvest  of  maize.  Below,  wide  reaches  of  marsh, 
threaded  by  winding  creeks,  the  haunt  of  countless  wild 
fowl.  The  desert  beach,  and  the  sullen  sea  beyond.  To 
York,  the  nearest  settlement,  a  day’s  journey  by  the  shore 
if  the  tide  was  right ;  if  not,  by  any  way  that  a  man  or  horse 
could  take. 

With  few  exceptions,  if  we  may  credit  its  historian,  the 
people  of  Wells,  up  to  about  the  year  1700,  were  poor, — 
materially,  intellectually  and  morally.  Their  houses  were 
mostly  of  logs,  daubed  with  clay.  They  had  few  personal 
comforts  or  conveniences.  Their  beds  were  of  the  cat-tail 
rushes,  which  they  gathered  from  the  marsh.  Knives  and 
forks,  teacups  and  saucers,  silver  spoons,  chairs,  carpets  and 
looking  glasses,  were  luxuries  almost  unknown.  Their  food 


/ 


ESTHER  WHEELWRIGHT. 


39 


was  of  the  simplest.  They  had  milk,  but  no  butter,  and  no 
tea  nor  coffee.  Corn  and  such  fish  as  they  could  catch,  were 
the  chief  of  their  diet.  The  house  of  the  richest  man  in 
Wells  is  thus  described  by  the  town  historian:1  ‘‘The  kitchen 
is  also  the  sitting  room  and  parlor.  Looking  around,  we  dis¬ 
cover  a  table,  a  pewter  pot,  a  hanger,2  a  little  mortar,  a  drip¬ 
ping  pan  and  a  skillet.  No  crockery,  tin  nor  glass  ware.  No 
knives,  forks,  nor  spoons, — -not  a  chair  to  sit  in.  The  house 
contains  two  other  rooms,  in  each  of  which  is  a  bed,  a  blank¬ 
et  and  a  chest.” 

This  was  the  home  of  Edmund  Littlefield,  his  wife,  and 
six  children  between  the  ages  of  six  and  twenty.3  We  can¬ 
not  wonder  at  this  condition  of  affairs,  when  we  remember 
that  the  labors  of  the  people  were  often  interrupted  by  In¬ 
dian  attacks.  Rather  let  us  admire  the  unflagging  energy 
and  undaunted  courage,  with  which,  in  the  face  of  hardship 
and  danger,  they  steadfastly  held  on  to  their  territory.  Poor 
and  ignorant  they  may  have  been, — not  of  the  highest  mo¬ 
rality  according  to  our  standard;  but  no  peril  could  drive  these 
brave  settlers  from  their  frontier  post.  Every  hour  their 
lives  were  in  jeopardy.  Again  and  again  their  fields  were 
devastated,  their  houses  burned,  their  neighbors  butchered 
or  carried  into  captivity,  but  not  once  was  the  little  settle¬ 
ment  wholly  deserted. 

From  1688  to  the  peace  of  Ryswick,  [1697]  a  series  of  un¬ 
provoked  and  unjustifiable  attacks  was  made  upon  our  fron¬ 
tier,  by  the  French,  under  the  pretext  of  protecting  the 
Eastern  Indians,  from  encroachments  by  the  English.  To 
divert  the  Abenaquis,  to  prevent  their  being  approached  by 

'Bourne's  “History  of  Wells  and  Kertnebunk,  p.  239.” 

2  A  hook  on  which  to  hang  a  pot. 

"Storer,  then  the  richest  man  in  Wells,  died  in  1730,  leaving  an  estate  of 
$5000,  and  six  silver  spoons.  There  were  no  other  silver  spoons  in  Wells  at 
that  time. 


40 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


the  English  with  proffers  of  friendship,  to  keep  the  English 
to  the  west  of  the  Piscataqua,  and  thereby  to  secure  Maine 
as  a  part  of  Acadia,  was  the  motive  of  these  attacks.  The 
instructions  to  Villebon  on  his  appointment  as  Governor  of 
Acadia,  were  to  make  the  Abenaquis  live  by  war  against  the 
English,  and  himself  to  set  them  a  laudable  example. 

Admit  that  the  blow  struck  at  Pemaquid1  in  1689,  and  at 
Casco2  in  1690,  were  the  legitimate  fruit  of  the  pillage  at  Pen- 
tagoet3  in  1688, — no  such  justification  can  be  offered  for  the 
butcheries  at  Kittery,  Berwick,  York  and  Oyster  River.4 

In  this  border  warfare,  religious  fanaticism  was  the  strong¬ 
est  weapon  of  the  French.  If  the  Abenaki  chieftain  flagged, 
and  seemed  willing  to  listen  to  overtures  of  peace -from  the 
English,  the  exhortations  of  the  mission  priests  of  the  Ken- 
nebeck  and  Penobscot,  fanned  the  flame  of  war  afresh.  The 
scene  at  Father  Thury’s  mission  on  the  departure  of  these 
war  parties  was  one  of  great  religious  excitement.5  The 
warriors  crowded  the  chapel,  seeking  confession  and  absolu¬ 
tion,  as  if  going  to  certain  death,  and  when  these  savage  cru¬ 
saders,  hideous  in  fresh  war  paint,  set  out  from  the  mission, 
headed  by  their  priest,  their  women  and  children  threw 
themselves  upon  their  knees  before  the  altar,  and  relieving 
each  other  by  detachments,  counted  their  beads  continually 
from  daybreak  till  nightfall,  beseeching  Jesus,  the  Saints  and 
the  Blessed  Virgin,  for  protection  and  victory  in  the  holy 
war.  The  infant  towns  of  Eastern  New  England  received 
a  baptism  of  blood  at  the  hands  of  the  Abenaki  converts,  which 
was  sanctioned  and  encouraged  by  their  mission  priests. 

’Fort  at  mouth  of  the  Kennebec. 

‘^Portland. 

3Castine. 

4Durham. 

5See  Relation  du  Combat  de  Caribas  par  M.  Thury,  Missionaire,  1689. 
Vol.  1,  Doc.  pub.  a  Quebec,  p.  478. 


ESTHER  WHEELWRIGHT. 


41 


The  French  archives  contain  abundant  authority  for  these 
statements,  in  the  correspondence  of  those  concerned,  in  the 
instructions  of  the  government,  and  in  the  reports  of  officials. 

We  of  to-day  are  not  responsible  for  the  unpleasant  facts 
of  history.  They  must  be  met  without  excuse  or  denial, 
without  prejudice  or  passion.  The  evidence  that  the  mission 
priests  of  the  Abenakis  were  active  promoters  of  the  strife 
can  no  more  be  refuted,  than  the  testimony  against  the 
Puritan  ministry  for  their  part  in  the  persecution  of  the 
Quakers,  and  the  horrors  of  the  Witchcraft  delusion.1 

The  names  of  the  Fathers  Thury  and  Bigot  are  as  truly 
and  painfully  connected  with  the  tragedies  of  Pemaquid  and 
Oyster  River,  as  those  of  Cotton  Mather  and  Pastor  Wilson 
with  the  whipping,  mutilating  and  killing  of  Quakers,  and 
the  hanging  of  witches.  It  was  an  age  of  intolerance.  We 
may  not  judge  the  past  by  the  standards  of  the  present. 

During  the  period  I  have  mentioned,  Maine  had  passed 
under  the  jurisdiction  of  Massachusetts,  but  though  every 
English  settlement  to  the  east  of  Wells  had  been  laid  waste, 
(the  survivors  fleeing  to  Wells  for  refuge,)  the  authorities  at 
Boston  seem  to  have  shown  an  indifference  to  the  needs  of 
that  place.  There  were,  however,  valiant  men  in  Wells, 
keenly  alive  to  the  perils  of  the  hour,  and  ever  on  the  alert 
to  save  the  town,  and  defend  the  province.  Conspicuous 
among  them  were  Lieut.  Joseph  Storer  and  Capt.  John 
Wheelwright.  In  the  annals  of  New  England  there  are  no 
nobler  names. 

John  Wheelwright  was  the  son  of  Samuel,  and  grandson 
of  the  pugilistic  Puritan,  Rev.  John  Wheelwright.  By  his 
prudence,  his  energy,  his  fidelity,  his  bravery  and  his  pat- 

'The  archives  also  contain  letters  from  Acadian  officials,  censuring  and 
asking  for  the  removal  of  certain  priests,  “do  nothings,”  who  took  no  part  in 
the  war,  but  attended  strictly  to  their  religious  duties  and  were  therefore  sus¬ 
pected  of  favoring  the  English. 


42 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES 


riotism,  he  earned  the  distinction,  of  being  “the  bulwark  of 
Massachusetts  for  defence  against  Indian  assaults.”1 

Letters  abound  in  our  archives,  signed  by  Storer  and 
Wheelwright,  and  other  faithful  sentinels  on  this  outpost, 
entreating  that  they  may  not  be  left  to  perish,  but  that  sol¬ 
diers  and  ammunition  may  be  sent  to  their  relief,  with  money 
and  provision  for  their  support. 

By  their  foresight,  some  houses  were  palisaded,  and  Storer 
and  others  built  garrison  houses  as  early  as  1689.  As  these 
garrison  houses  are  a  feature  fast  disappearing  from  the  face 
of  New  England,  I  may  be  pardoned  for  describing  them. 
They  were  two  stories  in  height,  the  upper  story  projecting 
a  foot  or  two  beyond  the  lower,  small  port  holes  being  some¬ 
times  made  in  the  floor  of  the  projection,  through  which  those 
within  might  fire  down,  or  pour  boiling  water  upon  an  enemy 
attempting  to  force  an  entrance  through  the  door  or  win¬ 
dows  below.  There  were  also  portholes  in  other  parts  of  the 
house.  Other  garrison  houses  were  built  of  hewn  timbers, 
eight  or  ten  inches  square,  laid  horizontally,  one  over  the 
other.  The  doors  were  of  heavy  plank,  and  often  there  were 
port  holes  for  windows.  Some  of  these  houses  had  flankers, 
or  watch  towers,  at  two  diagonal  corners,  from  which  one 
could  see  every  part  of  the  building.  The  principal  garrison 
houses  of  the  town  were  palisaded,  and  like  the  so-called  “Old 
Indian  House”  in  Deerfield,  served  as  a  refuge  for  the  neigh¬ 
bors  in  any  alarm;— and  as  quarters  for  the  soldiers,  sent  for 
their  protection.  Storer’s  was  the  largest  garrison  house  in 
Wells.  For  his  heroic  defence  of  Storer’s  house  in  1692, 
Captain  Convers  was  made  Commander-in-Chief  of  all  the 
forces  in  Maine. 

In  the  midst  of  these  troublous  times,  in  the  very  year  of 
the  building  of  Storer’s  fort,  John  Wheelwright  married 
Mary  Snell  and  took  her  home  to  the  little  one  story  house, 

'Maine  was  bought  by  Massachusetts  in  his  time. 


ESTHER  WHEELWRIGHT. 


43 


built  by  his  grandfather,  the  Puritan  preacher.  It  was  proba¬ 
bly  palisaded  at  this  time.  Peace  being  nominally  restored 
by  the  treaty  of  Ryswick,  the  people  of  Wells  returned  to 
their  farms  and  went  courageously  to  work;  but  peace  was  of 
short  duration.  By  his  acceptance  of  the  throne  of  Spain  for 
his  grandson  in  1700,  the  French  king  broke  the  solemn  en¬ 
gagement  made  to  William  of  England,  in  the  two  Treaties 
of  Partition.  His  subsequent  recognition  of  James  Edward, 
the  Pretender,  as  king  of  England,  was  a  gross  infringement 
of  the  treaty  of  Ryswick. 

On  the  nth  of  June,  1702,  Joseph  Dudley  returned  to  Bos¬ 
ton  as  Governor  of  Massachusetts  Bay.  Within  ten  days 
after  his  arrival,  he  was  formally  notified  of  England’s  decla¬ 
ration  of .  war  against  France.  Fearing  trouble  from  the 
Indians  at  the  Eastward,  he  with  a  party  of  friends,  went  at 
once  to  Pemaquid,1  and  received  from  the  sachems  of  that 
region,  promises  of  peace.  Satisfied  with  this  assurance,  he 
returned  to  congratulate  the  General  Court  on  the  success  of 
his  journey,  and  to  reiterate  his  demand  for  the  restoration 
of  the  fort  at  Pemaquid.2 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter  of  John  Wheelwright 
to  the  Governor,  dated  Aug.  4,  1702,  shows  that  the  former 
had  110  faith  in  the  words  of  the  savagfes. 

“Sir, — I  understand  that  the  Indians  at  the  Eastward  vearey  redily 
Professed  Great  fidelity  to  yourself,  and  the  English  nation,  with 
Great  Promis  of  Peace  and  friendship,  which  Promises  so  long  as  it 
may  stand  with  theire  own  Interest,  I  believe  they  may  keep,  and 
no  longer,  their  teachers  Instructing  them  that  there  is  no  faith  to 
be  kept  with  Hereticks,  such  as  they  account  us  to  be,  themselves 

allso  being  naturaley  deseatful . I  having  Experienced  so  mutch 

of  their  horable  deseatful  ness  in  the  Last  war,  upon  many  treaties  of 

'At  the  mouth  of  the  Kennebec  River. 

2This  was  a  sort  of  “Carthago  est  delenda”  with  Dudley.  Massachusetts 
understood  that  to  rebuild  Pemaquid  would  be  of  no  benefit  to  her,  but  would 
be  only  a  continuation  of  the  quarrel  over  the  debatable  ground  of  Acadia. 


44 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


Peace,  so  that  I  cannot  but  apprehend  ourselves  that  live  in  these  re¬ 
mote  parts  of  the  countrey,  and  being  frontires,  to  be  in  Great  Dan¬ 
ger,  and  considering  that  war  was  Proclaimed  with  the  French . 

who  may . send  out  an  army  against  us . this  town  be¬ 

ing  the  nearest  to  the  Enemy,  our  Inhabitants  doth  therefore  Pray, 
that  your  Excelency  would  assist  us  with  sum  men  twenty  or  thirtie, 
or  so  many  as  your  Excellency  in  Wisdom  may  think  fit.” 

Wheelwright  goes  on  to  ask  for  the  “Liberty  of  a  Garrison 
[house]  Informing  your  Excellency  that  if  I  must  remove  into 
the  middle  of  the  town,  I  must  leave  that  Little  Estate  I  have 
to  maintain  my  Family  with,  and  Carey  a  large  Family  where 
I  have  but  little  to  maintain  them  withall.” 

Six  or  seven  of  their  eleven  children  had  already  been  born 
to  John  Wheelwright  and  Mary  Snell,  and  the  little  one  story 
house  at  the  Town’s  End,  being  in  an  exposed  and  isolated 
situation,  and  now  too  small  for  his  increasing  family,  Wheel¬ 
wright  asked  the  consent  and  help  of  the  government  to  build 
a  substantial  garrison  house,  not  only  for  the  safety  of  his 
own  family,  but  as  a  refuge  in  case  of  attack,  for  his  nearest 
neighbors. 

Storer  and  Wheelwright,  being  the  leading  men  of  the  town, 
were  licensed  as  retailers  of  beer  and  strong  liquors,  and 
their  houses  served  as  ordinaries  or  taverns  for  the  public. 
“In  those  days,”  sighs  the  historian  of  Wells,  “public  houses 
were  not  always  nurseries  of  virtue.”  It  is  a  hint  of  the  mor¬ 
als  of  the  times,  that  both  Storer  and  Wheelwright  were  “in¬ 
dicted  for  keeping  Keeles  and  bowls  at  their  houses  contrary 
to  law.”1  Perhaps  the  ordinary  was  not  an  unmixed  evil. 
Ministers  and  judges  put  up  here,  in  their  journeys  from 
place  to  place,  bringing  the  latest  news  from  other  parts. 
Courts  were  held  here.  Here  the  town  officers  met  to  delib¬ 
erate,  and  the  men  of  the  village  gathered  here  for  social 
chat  and  pastime.  Commissioners,  referees  and  executors 

Keels  and  bowls,”  old  English  for  nine-pins  and  balls. 


L-Str.  UR'NTHJMC  Cbgyrlfihf  secured  according  to  ACT  of  CCDTGRESS 


ESTHER  WHEELWRIGHT. 


45 


met  in  the  “foreroom”  of  the  ordinary,  to  lay  out  roads,  decide 
disputes,  and  settle  estates.  Rum  was  a  necessity  of  life  in 
those  days,  and  the  flip  and  toddy,  mixed  by  John  Wheel¬ 
wright  on  such  occasions,  was  scored  against  the  town,  the 
man,  or  the  estate,  whose  business  was  there  transacted.  To 
the  boys,  who  had  neither  books,  nor  games,  nor  school,  the 
ordinary  was  amusing,  and  I  have  not  a  doubt,  that  little 
Esther  Wheelwright  stole  away  now  and  then  from  her  busy 
mother,  to  look  on  at  the  games.  We  may  fancy  her  with 
her  closely  cropped  head,  her  Puritan  cap  and  homespun 
frock,  clapping  her  baby  hands  and  shouting  in  glee  at  a 
ten  strike  with  the  bowls  and  keels,  made  by  some  gaunt 
frontiersman. 

Early  in  June,  1703,1  Dudley  was  notified  by  the  Governor 
of  New  York,2  that  the  French  and  Indians  were  preparing 
for  an  attack  on  Deerfield.  Whereupon  Dudley  invited  the 
Abenaqui  sachems  to  a  conference  at  Casco.  Thither  he  re¬ 
paired  with  a  splendid  retinue  on  the  20th  of  June,  and  there 
to  meet  him,  came  all  the  famous  sachems  of  the  time.  For 
the  Norridgewocks  there  was  that  loup-garou  Hopehood,  ex¬ 
celling  all  other  savages  in  cruelty, —  and  Moxus  the  brag¬ 
gart,  and  Adiawando,  for  the  Pennacooks,  and  Wattanummon, 
for  the  Pequawkets,  and  Bomazeen,  the  crafty,  for  the  Kenne- 
becks,  and  Wanungunt,  for  the  Penobscots.  The  Governor 
tells  them  that  commissioned  by  his  victorious  Queen,  he 
has  come  as  to  friends  and  brothers,  to  reconcile  all  differences 
since  the  last  treaty.  After  a  solemn  pause,  their  Interpret¬ 
er  replies: 

“ Brother , — the  clouds  fly  and  darken,  yet  we  still  sing  the  songs 
of  peace.  As  high  as  the  sun  is  above  the  earth,  so  far  are  our 
thoughts  from  war,  or  from  making  the  least  breach  between  us.” 

'Dudley’s  2nd  trip  to  the  Eastward. 

"Lord  Cornbury,  a  cousin  of  Queen  Anne.  Palfrey  Hist.  N.  E.  Vol.  IV,  says 
that  Lord  Cornbury  kept  a  spy  at  Albany  to  hear  the  talk  of  the  Six  Nations. 


46 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


After  an  interchange  of  gifts,  both  parties  cast  more  stones 
on  the  mounds  heaped  up  at  a  former  treaty  and  called  the 
Two  Brothers,  to  signify  fraternal  love  existing  between  the 
English  and  Abenakis.  At  this  memorable  council,  Captain 
Samuel,  a  savage  of  great  renown,  who  was  most  officious  in 
trying  to  lull  the  fears  of  the  English,  said  d  “Several  mis¬ 
sionaries  have  come  among  us,  sent  by  the  French  Fryars  to 
break  the  peace  between  the  English  and  us,  yet  their  words 
have  made  no  impression  on  us.  We  are  as  firm  as  the  moun¬ 
tains  and  will  so  continue  as  long  as  the  sun  and  moon  en¬ 
dure.” 

Parting  volleys  were  fired  on  both  sides,  and  Dudley  re¬ 
tired,  believing  that  present  danger  was  averted  from  Deer¬ 
field  and  the  whole  frontier.  His  satisfaction  with  this  re¬ 
markable  love  feast,  must  have  been  somewhat  lessened  by 
the  presence  of  Mesambowit  and  Wexar  for  the  Andros- 
coggins,  who  though  “seemingly  affable  and  kind,  came  with 
two  hundred  and  fifty  men  in  sixty  five  canoos,  well  armed 
and  gaudily  painted,” — by  the  late  arrival  of  Wattanummon, 
who  purposely  lingered,  as  was  afterwards  said,  expecting  a 
re- enforcement  of  two  hundred  French  and  Indians,  with 
whom  they  were  to  fall  upon  the  English, — and  by  the  dis¬ 
covery  at  the  parting  salute,  that  the  guns  of  the  savages 
were  charged  with  ball. 

Not  two  months  had  passed  since  the  treaty  of  Casco, 
when  one  midsummer  day,  six  or  seven  bands  of  French  and 
Indians  fell  upon  the  scattered  settlements.  Charlevoix  says 
calmly,2  “They  committed  some  trifling  ravages,  and  killed 
about  three  hundred  men,  but  the  essential  point  was  to  en¬ 
gage  the  Abenakis,  in  .such  a  manner,  that  to  retract  would 
be  impossible.” 

’Drake,  Book  of  the  Indians,  Vol.  II.  p.  125. 

2Charlevoix,  Nouvelle  France,  Vol.  II,  p.  289. 


ESTHER  WHEELWRIGHT. 


47 


Wells,  Winter  Harbor,1  Spurwink,2  Cape  Porpoise,  Sear- 
boro,  Saco,  Perpooduck3  and  Casco4  were  attacked.  “  At 
Hampton,”  says  the  chronicler,  “they  slew  four  besides  the 
Widow  Mussey,  a  remarkable  speaking  Quaker  and  much 
lamented  by  that  sect.” 

At  Haverhill,  in  February,  Joseph  Bradley’s  garrison  house 
was  attacked.  Goodwife  Bradley,  “  perceiving  the  misery 
that  was  attending  her,  and  having  boiling  soap  on  the  fire, 
scalded  one  of  them  to  death.”5  She  was  carried  captive  for 
the  second  time.  Her  husband  attended  Ensign  Sheldon,  on 
his  second  expedition  to  Canada,  and  Goody  Bradley  and 
James  Adams  of  Wells  were  two  of  the  forty-four  captives 
redeemed  on  that  expedition. 

The  merciless  fusillade  on  our  frontier6  began  Aug.  io, 

1703,  at  Wells  in  the  east  and  virtually  ended  Feb.  29,  1703-4, 
at  Deerfield  in  the  west. 7  Thenceforth  the  lines  of  the  lives  of 
the  captives  of  both  towns,  often  cross  each  other. 

Wells,  having  successfully  resisted  the  assault  of  1692,  be¬ 
came  the  special  object  of  savage  fury.  Anticipating  victory 
at  that  time,  Cotton  Mather  says:  “They  fell  to  dividing  per¬ 
sons  and  plunder . Such  a  gentleman  should  serve  such 

an  one,  and  his  wife  be  maid  of  honor  to  such  a  squaw,  and 
Mr.  Wheelwright,  instead  of  being  the  worthy  Counsellor  he 
now  is,  was  to  be  the  servant  of  such  a  netop.”  The  capture 
of  Wheelwright  was  a  much  coveted  prize. 

The  tragedy  which  began  at  Wells  at  nine  o’clock  on  the 
morning  of  Aug.  10,  1703,  ended  in  the  capture  or  death  of 

’Biddeford. 

2Kennebunkport. 

3Falmouth. 

4Portland. 

5Penhallow,  Indian  wars. 

6 Letter  of  Dudley  to  Lords  of  Trade,  April  8,  1712,  says:  “From  Deerfield 
in  the  West  to  Wells  in  the  East,  is  the  frontier  to  the  inland  of  both  Provinces.” 

7Matthevv  Farnsworth  and  others  of  Groton,  Mass.,  were  captured  in  Aug., 

1704. 


48 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


thirty-nine  of  the  inhabitants.  Wheelwright’s  house  being 
at  the  eastern  end  of  the  village,  was  probably  one  of  the 
first  attacked.  His  little  daughter  Esther,  then  seven  years 
old,  was  captured.  The  intrepid  Storer  was  also  bereft.  His 
daughter  Mary,  aged  eighteen,  was  among  the  captives.  One 
longs  to  know  what  followed.  Was  there  pursuit  ?  Whither 
were  the  captives  hurried,  and  how  did  it  fare  with  them  on 
the  retreat?  Alas  !  no  echo  from  the  past  replies.  We  may 
assume  that  Mary  Storer  and  Esther  Wheelwright  were  kind¬ 
ly  treated  by  their  savage  captors,  who  knew  the  value  of 
their  prize,  and  doubtless  expected  a  large  sum  for  the  ran¬ 
som  of  the  two  girls. 

In  gloom  and  despair,  the  meagre  harvest  was  gathered 
that  autumn  by  the  survivors  at  Wells.  Drearily  the  winter 
settled  down,— joylessly  came  planting  time  again,  and  a  sec¬ 
ond  harvest  was  garnered,  before  the  veil  of  silence  and  sus¬ 
pense,  that  hung  over  the  fate  of  the  captives  was  lifted. 
Then  came  a  letter  from  Samuel  Hill,  dated  Canada,  Oct.  4, 
1704,  with  assurances  of  the  safety  of  his  family,  and  that  of 
his  brother  Ebenezer.  Meantime  Deerfield  had  been  sacked, 
and  in  the  December,  following  Hill’s  letter,  Ensign  Sheldon 
of  that  town  set  out  for  Canada.  The  hearts  of  all  the  New 
England  captives  there  were  cheered  by  the  news  of  his  ar¬ 
rival.  On  the  29th  of  March,  1705,  while  in  Quebec,  he  re¬ 
ceived  from  his  son’s  wife,  Hannah  Chapin  of  Springfield, 
then  a  captive  in  Montreal,  a  letter  enclosing  the  following,1 
from  James  Adams,  a  Wells  captive : 

“  I  pray  giue  my  Kind  loue  to  Landlord  Shelden,  and  tel  Him  that 
i  am  sorry  for  all  his  los.  I  doe,  in  these  few  lins  showe  youe,  that 
god  has  shone  yo  grat  Kindness  and  marcy.  In  carrying  youre 
Daighter  Hanna  and  Mary  in  partickeler,  through  so  grat  a  jorney 
far  beiend  my  expectation,  noing  How  Lame  they  was  ;  the  Rest  of 
yore  children  are  with  the  Indians, — Rememberrance  Hues  near  ca- 

'Now  in  Memorial  Hall,  Deerfield. 


ESTHER  WHEELWRIGHT. 


49 


beet,1  Hannah  also  Liues  with  the  french,  Jn  in  the  sam  house  i 
doe.” 

In  reply  to  liis  daughter’s  letter  Mr.  Sheldon  says : 

“My  desire  is  that  Mr.  Addames  and  you,  wod  doe  al  you  can  with 
your  mistres  that  my  children  mite  by  redemed  from  the  indanes.” 

Shortly  after  this,  on  the  2nd  of  April,  1705,  the  captive 
Samuel  Hill,  was  sent  on  parole  to  Boston,  as  Interpreter  with 
De  Vaudreuil’s  reply  to  Dudley’s  proposal  for  exchange  of 
prisoners,  which  proposal  John  Sheldon  had  carried  to  Can¬ 
ada.  Hill  visited  his  friends  in  Wells,  while  on  this  embassy, 
and  was  probably  the  bearer  of  the  following  letter  from  his 
brother  Ebenezer : 

“Quebec  March  1705. 

Cousin  Pendleton  Fletcher  of  Saco,  Mary  Sayer,  brother  Joseph’s 
daughter,  and  Mary  Storer  of  Wells,  with  our  other  friends  and 
neighbors  here,  are  all  well.  Myself,  wife  and  child  are  well.  Pray 
that  God  may  keep,  and  in  due  time  deliver  us. 

Your  loving  brother  and  sister, 

Ebenezer  and  Abiah  Hill.” 

Never  was  the  sea  so  blue, — never  did  the  waves  leap  so 
gaily  to  the  shore, — never  was  the  sky  so  fair,  or  the  air  so 
soft,  or  the  scent  of  the  pines  so  sweet,  as  when  the  news  of 
that  letter  spread  from  door  to  door  at  Wells.  For  nearly 
two  years  they  had  mourned  their  loved  ones  as  dead,  when 
the  glad  tidings  comes  that  “Cousin  Fletcher  and  Mary 
Sayer  and  brother  Joseph’s  daughter  and  Mary  Storer  and 
other  friends  and  neighbors  as  if  named,  are  well.”  All  was 
joy  in  Storer’s  garrison.  In  Wheelwright’s,  not  joy,  but  hope 
revived,  and  yearning  more  intense,  and  resolve  strengthened, 
to  find  and  rescue  Esther  if  alive. 

But  where  was  Esther?  Clearly  the  Hills  and  James 
Adams  were  ignorant  of  her  fate, — but  how  did  this  child 
elude  the  sharp  eyes  of  John  Sheldon,  and  the  vigilance  of 
De  Vaudreuil? 

'Quebec. 


5o 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


Far  away  in  the  depths  of  the  forest,  to  the  head  waters  of 
the  Kennebec,  the  Abenaki  wolf  had  swiftly  fled  with  the 
bleating  lamb  thus  snatched  from  the  fold.  There,  in  one  of 
the  Abenaki  villages  of  Father  Bigot’s  mission,  Esther  lived 
in  the  wigwam  of  her  tawny  master,  an  object  of  wonder  to 
his  children,  of  jealousy,  perhaps,  to  his  fierce  squaw. 

The  days  lengthen  into  weeks, — the  weeks  to  months, 
and  these  to  years,1  when  one  day  as  he  is  making  his  arduous 
round  from  village  to  village,  baptizing,  catechizing,  confess¬ 
ing  his  converts,  Father  Bigot  sees  a  little  girl,  whose  pale 
face,  shrinking  manners  and  tattered  garments,  show  her  to 
be  of  different  race  from  the  bold,  dusky,  naked  rabble 
around  her.  He  calls  her  to  him.  He  speaks  to  her,  perhaps, 
an  English  word.  She  does  not  answer.  She  has  lost  her 
childhood’s  speech.  He  sends  for  her  savage  master,  and 
learns  that  she  is  Wheelwright’s  child.  ’‘The  English  rose 
is  drooping,”  says  the  priest,  “the  forest  life  is  too  hard  for 
her.”  He  will  “transplant  her  to  Canada,  where  she  will 
thrive  better  under  the  nurture  of  the  gentle  nuns.”  “The 
little  white  flower  must  not  be  plucked  up,”  says  the  Indian, 
“let  her  grow  up  among  the  pine  trees,  to  deck  by  and  by, 
the  wigwam  of  some  young  brave.”  On  each  return  of  the 
priest  to  the  village,  this  discussion  is  renewed,  but  neither 
promise  nor  threat  can  move  the  sullen  savage. 

The  lot  of  the  little  captive  is  easier  from  that  day.  The 
Indian  knows  it  is  in  the  power  of  his  Great  Father  the 
French  Governor,  to  take  the  child  from  him,  and  he  tries 
by  kindness  to  win  her  to  stay.  The  priest  spares  no  pains 
to  teach  her,  and  the  intelligent  child  quickly  responds  to 
his  efforts.  Soon  she  can  say  her  credo  and  her  catechism  in 
French,  as  well  as  in  Abenaki.  Only  she  finds  it  hard  that 
even  Father  Bigot  does  not  seem  to  understand  her  when  she 
talks  about  her  mother,  and  her  brothers  and  sisters.  And  if 

’Esther  Wheelwright  was  six  years  with  the  savages. 


ESTHER  WHEELWRIGHT. 


51 


she  asks  when  her  father  will  come  for  her,  her  master  is 
angry  and  the  priest  frowns.  Meantime  De  Vaudreuil  is  in¬ 
formed  by  Father  Bigot  of  the  hiding  place  of  the  child,  and 
in  some  way  or  other,  the  news  reaches  Boston,  that  Esther 
Wheelwright,  long  since  given  up  by  her  parents  as  dead,  is 
alive. 

On  the  23rd  of  April,  1708,  Lieut.  Josiah  Littlefield  of  Wells, 
while  on  his  way  to  York,  was  captured  and  carried  captive 
to  Canada,  arriving  at  Montreal  on  the  3rd  of  June.  Soon 
after,  he  writes  as  follows: 

MDear  and  loving  children,  my  kind  love . to  you  all, . 

and  to  my  brother  and  sister . and  to  all  my  friends  att 

Wells. . I  have  liberty  granted  to  me  to  rite  to  my  friends, 

and  to  the  governor,  and  for  my  redemtion  and  for  Wheelrite’s  child 
to  be  redeemed,  by  two  Indens  prisoners . with  the  Eng¬ 
lish  . and  1  have  been  with  the  Governor  this  morning,  and  hee 

have  promised,  that  if  our  governor  will  send  them,  that  wee  shall  be 
redeemed,  for  the  governor  have  sent  a  man  to  redeem  Wheilerites 
child,  and  do  looke  for  him  in  now  every  day  with  the  child  to 
Moriel  where  1  am,  and  I  would  pray  Whilrite  to  be  very  brief  in  the 
matter,  that  we  may  come  home  before  winter,  for  we  must  come  by 
Albany,  and  I  have  allso  acquainted  our  gofnear  Dedly2  with  the 
same.” 

In  a  postcript  to  another  letter,  written  at  the  same  time, 
Littlefield  writes: 

“Mary  Storar  is  well  and  Rachel  Storer  is  well,  and . Storar 

is  well  and  Mary  Austin  of  York  is  well. 

I  pray  you  charge  Wheelright  to  be  mindful . consearning 

our  redemption.” 

We  need  no  assurance,  that  a  demand  was  at  once  made  by 
Dudley,  upon  the  French  Governor,  for  the  release  of  Esther 

’Bourne,  History  of  Wells,  p.  267. 

2Governor  Dudley. 


52 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


Wheelwright.  After  much  trouble,  Father  Bigot  succeeds  in 
buying  the  English  rose  from  the  Abenaqui  sachem.  In 
the  autumn  of  1708,  he  transplants  her  to  Quebec,  where  she 
is  kindly  welcomed  by  the  Governor  and  his  wife,  who  re¬ 
ceived  her  into  their  own  household.  From  the  squalor  and 
rags  of  the  wigwam  on  the  Kennebec,  to  the  luxury  of 
the  Chateau  Saint  Louis,  what  a  contrast! — What  are  the 
thoughts  of  the  twelve  years  old  girl?  Have  the  five  years 
of  forest  life  blotted  out  her  remembrance  of  the  little  house 
at  the  town’s  end  at  Wells?  She  has  learned  to  love  Pore 
Bigot  as  her  kindest  friend  and  father.  To  priest  and  child 
alike,  the  parting  must  have  been  painful.  Does  she  console 
herself  with  the  belief  that  she  is  now  to  be  restored  to 
home  and  friends,  or  is  she  dazzled  and  pleased  by  her  sur¬ 
roundings? 

No  effort  seems  to  have  been  made  by  De  Vaudreuil  to  re¬ 
store  Esther  to  her  parents.  Madame  la  Marquise,  his  wife, 
having  received  an  appointment  as  assistant-governess  to 
the  royal  children  at  the  French  Court,  decides  to  place  her 
eldest  daughter,  Louise,  with  Esther  in  the  boarding  school 
of  the  Ursuline  Convent. 

“The  18th  of  January,  1709,  says  the  Register  of  the  Con¬ 
vent,  “Madame  la  Marquise  brought  us  a  little  English  girl, 
as  a  pupil.  She  is  to  pay  40  Sens."1 

The  names  of  Louise  de  Vaudreuil  and  Esther  Wheel¬ 
wright  stand  side  by  side  on  the  list  of  pupils  at  the  pension 
of  the  Ursulines  at  Quebec.  Thanks  to  Father  Bigot,  shortly 
after  entering  the  school,  Esther  took  her  first  communion 
“with  angelic  fervor.”  Beloved  by  the  sisters,  and  happy  in 
her  convent  home,  Esther  expressed  a  strong  desire  to  be¬ 
come  a  nun.  “But,”  says  the  annalist  of  the  Ursulines,  “the 
Marquis  who  considered  himself  pledged  to  restore  her  to 
her  family,  would  not  hear  a  word  to  this,  and  took  her  home 


'About  $40  of  our  money. 


ESTHER  WHEELWRIGHT. 


53 


with  his  daughter  to  the  chateau.1”  A  political  prisoner  of 
such  importance,  could  not  be  permitted  to  immure  herself 
in  a  convent.  Graceful,  amiable,  modest,  Esther  won  all 
hearts  at  the  chateau,  as  before  at  the  convent, — but  her  life 
for  the  next  two  years  must  have  been  restless  and  unhappy. 
It  was  a  time  of  much  negotiation  between  the  two  govern¬ 
ments,  concerning  a  general  exchange  of  prisoners.  During 
this  business,  Esther  accompanied  De  Vaudreuil  to  Three  Riv¬ 
ers  and  Montreal.  At  Three  Rivers  she  stayed  with  the  Ursu- 
lines,  and  at  Montreal,  in  the  cloisters  of  the  Hbtel-Dieu. 
On  Saturday,  Oct.  3,  1711,  while  at  Montreal,  she  was  god¬ 
mother  at  the  baptism  of  Dorothee  de  Noyon,  infant  daugh¬ 
ter  of  Abigail  Stebbins,  a  Deerfield  captive,  and  signed  her 
name  in  a  handsome  handwriting  in  the  parish  register,  with 
Father  Meriel,  and  the  son  of  the  Baron  of  Longueil. 

In  June,  1712,  the  French  Governor  proposed  that  our  cap¬ 
tives  be  brought  from  Canada  into  or  near  Deerfield,  and 
French  prisoners  sent  home  from  thence.  Two  of  the  French 
in  our  hands,  absolutely  refusing  to  return  to  Canada,2  young 
Samuel  Williams3  set  out  from  Deerfield  with  the  others  on 
the  10th  of  July,  returning  to  Boston  in  September,  with 
nine  New  England  captives. 

The  absence  of  Madame  de  Vaudreuil  in  Europe,  making  it 
inconvenient  for  the  Governor  to  keep  Esther  with  him  at  the 
the  chateau,  he  yielded  at  last  to  her  entreaties  to  be  allowed 
to  go  back  to  her  Ursuline  mothers.  Fostered  by  the  atmos¬ 
phere  of  the  convent,  a  religious  exaltation  took  possession  of 
her  soul. — “One  thought  alone,”  says  the  annalist,  “occupied 
her  mind, — the  preservation  of  her  faith  and  the  salvation  of 

'Esther  was  thirteen  in  1709,  when  she  entered  the  pension ,  remaining  there 

till  1711. 

2Cosset  and  Le  Fevre. 

3Lieut.  Samuel  Williams,  then  but  twenty-three  years  old,  a  redeemed  cap¬ 
tive  and  son  of  the  Rev.  John  Williams  of  Deerfield. 


54 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


her  soul.”  On  the  second  of  October,  1712,  on  the  festival  of 
Saint  Ursula,  she  began  her  novitiate  as  an  Ursuline  nun.  On 
the  third  of  January,  1713,  she  took  the  white  veil.  The  joy 
of  Father  Bigot  in  seeing  his  protegee  arrayed  as  the  “bride  of 
Jesus”  knew  no  bounds.  He  insisted  on  defraying  the  ex¬ 
penses  of  the  occasion,  and  preached  to  the  multitude  as¬ 
sembled  to  witness  the  ceremony,  a  sermon  glowing  with 
feeling  and  eloquence.  From  the  text,  “Thy  hand  shall 
lead  me  and  thy  right  hand  shall  hold  me,”  the  priest  shows 
Esther  the  hand  of  Providence  in  every  event  of  her  life. 

“Dear  sister,”  he  says,  “in  these  words  the  Psalmist  seems 
to  me  to  have  expressed  as  in  a  picture  the  story  of  your 

life . Hell!  Profane  world! — in  vain  do  you  array  your 

strongest  batteries  against  God’s  elect . His  right  hand 

shall  hold  them . By  what  marvels  of  God’s  goodness 

do  you  find  yourself  to-day,  my  sister,  happily  transplanted 
from  a  sterile  and  ingrate  land,  where  you  would  have  been 
the  slave  of  the  demon  of  heresy,  to  a  land  of  blessing  and 
promise,  where  you  are  about  to  enjoy  the  sweet  freedom  of 
the  children  of  God.” 

The  priest  admonishes  the  nuns,  that  they  should  be  in¬ 
spired  with  the  more  tenderness  for  this  young  stranger, 
from  the  fact  that  their  Immortal  Bridegroom  went  so  far  to 
seek  her. 

Turning  again  to  Esther  he  cries,  “Are  you  not,  my  dear 
Sister  another  little  Esther  to  whom  a  harsh  captivity  is 
about  to  open  the  door  to  the  throne,  not  of  a  powerlul 
Ahasuerus, — but  of  the  Master  of  Ahasuerus — the  Lord  of 
Lords  and  King  of  Kings.  To  Him  and  for  Him,  she  is  led 
in  triumph,  and  if  this  triumph  seems  to  you  to  have  nothing 
of  the  magnificence  of  a  marriage  festival, — if  instead  of  joy¬ 
ful  acclamations  and  the  harmony  of  musical  instruments, 
nothing  is  heard  but  the  confused  and  fierce  yells  of  savage 
warriors,  none  the  less  is  it  a  triumph  for  her  the  last  scene 


E  ST  1 1 E  R  W II E  ELW  RIGHT. 


55 


of  which  is  represented  to-day,  when  she  stands  about  to  be 
clad  in  the  livery  of  the  Divine  Bridegroom.”  He  depicts 
with  pathos  the  sorrow  of  Esther’s  childhood,  “snatched  from 
all  that  was  dearest  to  you,  following  your  savage  masters 
with  unequal  footsteps,  by  paths  difficult  beyond  the  concep¬ 
tion  of  all  who  have  not  experienced  them  as  you  and  I  have 
my  dear  Sister.”  He  repeats  to  her  the  sorrowful  circum¬ 
stances  m  which  he  found  her,  in  order  to  prove  to  her  that 
in  all  her  perils,  privations  and  sufferings,  she  had  been  up¬ 
lifted  and  led  by  the  hand  of  God. 

Alluding  to  her  reluctance  to  leave  the  convent  at  the 
Governor’s  command,  and  to  the  year  of  absence  so  full  of 
doubt,  suspense,  anxiety  and  grief  to  her,  he  bursts  into  this 
invocation:  “Oh  my  God!  to  whom  nothing  is  unknown,  that 
transpires  in  this  vast  universe,  wilt  Thou  be  insensible  only 
to  the  sorrowful  adventures  of  a  young  stranger,  so  worthy 
of  Thy  care  and  who  seems  destined  for  such  great  things? — 
Didst  Thou  seek  her  in  the  very  midst  of  heresy,  and  stir  up 
so  great  a  tumult  to  carry  her  away  from  her  native  land, 
only  to  see  her  snatched  from  Thee  now?  Hast  Thou  led  her 
into  this  country,  only  to  let  her  taste  a  happiness  she  may 
never  attain?  Hast  Thou  shown  her  the  inestimable  prize, 
only  to  make  her  regret  its  loss  more  bitterly?  No!  no!  dear 
sister, — You  cannot  escape  from  the  hand  of  your  God.  All 
obstacles  are  removed.  Nothing  stands  in  the  way  of  your 
happiness.  So  long  as  you  were  not  of  an  age  to  dispose  of 
yourself,  Providence  suspended  the  natural  tenderness  of 
your  father  and  mother,  and  abated  the  eagerness  of  their 
first  pursuit  of  their  child. 

Now  that  the  law  makes  you  mistress  of  yourself,  they  can 
no  longer  oppose  the  choice  you  have  made  of  a  holy  relig¬ 
ion,  and  a  condition  of  life  which  they  disapprove,  only  be¬ 
cause  they  know  not  its  excellence  or  its  sanctity.” 

In  April  following  the  Treaty  of  Utrecht,  Captain  John 


56 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


Schuyler  arrived  in  Canada  as  ambassador  for  a  general  ex¬ 
change  of  prisoners.  Later  in  the  year,  Reverend  John  Wil¬ 
liams  and  Captain  John  Stoddard  were  in  Canada  on  a  similar 
errand. 

By  all  these  envoys,  a  special  demand  was  made  for  the  re¬ 
lease  of  Eunice  Williams,  and  doubtless  for  Wheelwright’s 
daughter ;  and  Esther  received  pressing  letters  from  her  fam¬ 
ily  urging  her  return.  This  is  the  first  record  of  letters  to 
Esther  from  her  family,  but  her  resolution  to  become  a  nun 
was  unshaken  by  them.  However,  lest  stronger  temptation 
should  assail  the  young  novice,  and  at  her  most  urgent  en¬ 
treaties,  it  was  thought  best  to  shorten  her  term  of  probation, 
the  circumstances  being  considered  by  all,  sufficiently  extra¬ 
ordinary  to  warrant  this  exception  to  their  rules, — the  only 
one  of  the  kind  ever  made  by  the  Ursulines  of  Quebec. 
Whether  the  Governor  wholly  approved  of  this  proceeding, 
or  whether  in  this  instance,  the  state  succumbed  to  the  church, 
we  have  no  means  of  knowing. 

On  the  morning  of  the  12th  of  April,  1714,  the  Marquis  de 
Vaudreuil  with  his  brilliant  suite, — the  Bishop  of  Canada  and 
the  dignitaries  of  the  church,  in  all  the  splendor  of  their 
priestly  vestments,— with  all  the  beauty  and  fashion  of  Que¬ 
bec,  assembled  in  the  church  of  the  Ursulines,  which  was 
decorated  as  if  for  the  grandest  festival.  There  Esther 
Wheelwright  was  invested  with  the  black  robe  and  veil  of 
their  order,  by  the  Sisters  of  Saint  Ursula,  and  the  young 
New  England  captive,  known  thereafter  as  Mother  Esther 
Marie  Joseph  of  the  Infant  Jesus,  serenely  turned  her  face 
away  forever  from  her  childhood’s  home  and  friends. 

A  quarter  of  a  century  passes  before  the  curtain  rises  again 
on  Esther  Wheelwright. 

It  is  just  one  hundred  years  since  the  Ursuline,  Marie  de 
l’lncarnation,  and  her  sister  nuns  landing  at  Quebec  from  a 
little  boat  “deeply  laden  with  salted  codfish,  on  which  un- 


ESTHER  WHEELWRIGHT. 


57 


cooked,  they  had  subsisted  for  a  fortnight, . fell  prostrate, 

and  kissed  the  saered  soil  of  Canada.”1 

Just  a  hundred  years,  too,  since  the  Puritan  exile,  John 
Wheelwright  formed  with  his  companions  at  Exeter,  that 
remarkable  Combination  for  self  government.2 

It  is  the  year  of  our  Lord,  1739.  For  a  year  by  prayer  and 
penance  extraordinary,  the  Ursulines  of  Quebec,  have  been 
preparing  themselves  with  rapturous  devotion  to  celebrate 
worthily  the  centennial  anniversary  of  their  foundation.3 

At  midnight  the  cathedral  bells,  echoed  by  a  gayer  peal 
from  the  convent,  announce  to  the  city  of  Quebec,  that  a  festi¬ 
val  day  is  at  hand.  The  altars  of  the  Ursuline  church  are 
magnificently  decked.  The  freshly  gilded  altar  screen  re¬ 
flects  the  light  from  hundreds  of  wax  tapers  blazing  in  silver 
candlesticks.  From  four  in  the  morning  till  noon,  mass  is 
celebrated  uninterruptedly.  Processions  of  priests,  in  vest¬ 
ments  stiff  with  gold,  and  lace  from  the  looms  of  Europe, 
come  and  go  chanting  the  Te  Deum. 

As  the  day  declines,  the  plaintive  voices  of  the  nuns,  sing¬ 
ing  their  vesper  hymns,  steal  softly  from  behind  the  grille. 

In  the  little  house  at  the  town’s  end  in  Wells,  in  the  dim 
candle  light,  an  old  man,  and  his  old  wife  sit  alone  together. 
The  click  of  her  knitting  needles  is  in  sweet  accord  with  the 
scratch  of  his  quill,  while  he  writes  as  follows: 

“I  commend  my  soul  to  God  my  Creator,  hoping  for  Pardon  of 
all  my  Sins,  and  everlasting  salvation  through  the  alone  merits  of 
Jesus  Christ.” 

’Parkman,  Jesuits  in  N.  A.,  p.  182.  The  ship  anchored  at  Tadoussac. 
Thence  the  nuns  proceeded  in  a  small  boat  to  Quebec.  Marie  de  l’lncarna- 
tion,  aged  39.  Mdlle.  de  la  Peltrie,  30.  Mere  St.  Croix,  30.  Marie  de  St.  Jo¬ 
seph,  22.  Mdlle.  Charlotte  Barre,  18.  Indians  ran  along  the  shore. 

^Monday,  June  5,  1639. 

3Among  those  pious  virgins  are  three  New  England  captives,  Esther  Wheel¬ 
wright,  Mary  Anne  Davis,  and  Dorothee  Jeryan,  whom  I  believe  to  be  Jordan. 


58 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


He  makes  his  wife,  Mary,  sole  Executrix  of  his  will,  and  be¬ 
queaths  to  her  lands,  mills,  his  household  goods,  his  cattle  of 
all  kinds,  his  negro  and  mulatto  servants,  and  a  share  of  his 
money.  Then  his  thoughts  dwell  on  the  little  child,  long  ago 
so  cruelly  torn  from  him: 

“I  give  and  bequeath  to  my  daughter  Esther  Wheelwright,  if  living  in 
Canada,  whom  I  have  not  heard  of  for  this  many  years,  and  hath 
been  absent  for  more  than  30  yeares,  if  it  should  please  God  that 
She  return  to  this  country  and  settle  here,  then  my  will  is  that  my 
four  sons  viz:  John,  Samuel,  Jeremiah  and  Nathaniel  each  of  them 
pay  her  Twenty  Five  pounds,  it  being  in  the  Whole  One  Hundred 
Pounds,  within  six  months  after  her  Return  and  Settlement.” 

Captain  John  Wheelwright  died  Aug.  13,  1745. 

On  the  1 6th  of  November,  1750,  his  widow  who  survived 
him  ten  years,  disposed  by  will  of  her  temporal  estate. 

She  bequeaths  to  her  four  sons,  “each  5  A  in  old  tenor  bills, 
or  the  value  thereof  in  lawful  money.” 

To  her  daughters  Mary  Moody  and  Sarah  Jefferds,  all  her 
“wearing  Apparell,”  including  her  “Gold  Necklace,  Rings 
and  Buttons  to  be  equally  divided  between  them,”  and  to 
Sarah  Jefferds  in  addition,  a  “negro  boy  named  Asher.” 

Of  her  “Real  and  Personal  Estate,  within  Doors  or  without,” 
one  fourth  is  bequeathed  to  each  of  her  two  daughters  afore¬ 
said,  one  fourth  to  her  “three  beloved  Grand-daughters,” 
children  of  her  “deceased  daughter  Hannah  Plaisted,”  and 
one  fourth  to  her  “four  beloved  Granddaughters,”  children 
of  her  “deceased  Daughter  Elizabeth  Newmarch.” 

In  the  division  of  her  property,  her  “Negro  servant  Wom¬ 
an  named  Pegg,  shall  be  Divided  to  such  of  my  Aforesaid 
Daughters  or  Granddaughters  which  she  shall  choose  to  live 

with  after  my  Decease” . and  “furthermore  Provided  my 

Beloved  Daughter  Esther  Wheelwright,  who  has  been  many 
years  in  Canada,  is  yet  living  and  should  by  the  wonder  work¬ 
ing  Providence  of  God  be  Returned  to  her  Native  Land,  and 


ESTHER  WHEELWRIGHT. 


59 


tarry  and  dwell  in  it,  I  give  and  bequeath  unto  her,  one  Fifth 
part  of  my  Estate  which  I  have  already  by  this  Instrument 
willd  should  be  divided  to  and  among  my  aforesd  Daughters 
and  Granddaughters,  to  be  paid  by  them  in  Proportion  to 
their  Respective  Share  in  the  above  mentioned  Division  unto 
her  my  Said  Daughter  Esther  Wheelwright,  within  one  year 
after  my  Decease  Anything  above  written  in  this  Instrument 
to  the  Contrary  notwithstanding.”1 

It  would  seem  from  the  wills  of  Captain  John  Wheel¬ 
wright  and  his  wife,  that  the  testators  did  not  know  that  their 
daughter  had  bound  herself  by  irrevocable  vows  to  a  monas¬ 
tic  life.  The  History  of  the  town  of  Wells,  published  in  1875, 
confirms  this  opinion.  Its  author,  alluding  to  the  refusal  of 
some  New  England  captives  to  return  from  their  captivity, 

says,  “Esther  Wheelwright  was  one  of  the  number . 

Whether  she  acquired  any  more  intimate  than  the  natural 
relationships  of  life,  does  not  appear  from  any  tradition  or 

written  relics  of  the  day . She  wrote  to  her  father  from 

her  captivity.  He  lived  in  the  hope  that  she  would  come 
back,  and  provided  for  her  in  his  will,  in  the  event  she 

should  return  from  her  wandering  after  his  death . the 

fate  of  all  humanity  may  have  overtaken  her  before  that 

time.” . On  the  contrary,  the  annalist  of  the  Ursulines 

states,  that  “Immediately  after  'Esther’s  profession  as  a  nun, 
word  was  sent  to  her  family,  who  far  from  being  offended 
with  this  step  of  the  young  girl,  sent  her  a  messenger  from 
Boston,  charged  with  letters  and  gifts.”  These  statements, 
both  made  by  respectable  authority,  are  irreconcilable.  Care¬ 
ful  study  forces  me  to  the  conclusion,  that  the  annalist  of 
the  convent  records  actual  events,  of  which  at  the  date  of 
the  publication  of  the  history  of  Wells,  not  even  a  tradition 
remained  to  Wheelwright’s  descendants  in  New  England. 

Imagine  the  stir  at  the  convent,  when  in  January,  1754.  a 

'“Maine  Wills.”  Library  of  the  Hist,  and  Gen.  Soc.  Boston. 


6o 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


young  gentleman  from  Boston  presented  himself  at  the  door, 
announcing  himself  as  the  nephew  of  Mother  Esther  of  the 
Infant  Jesus,  and  demanding  an  interview  with  his  beloved 
aunt.  The  flutter  of  the  Touriere }  the  hesitation  of  the 
Mother  Superior,  the  hurried  consultation  of  all  in  authority, — 
may  be  better  imagined  than  described.  After  some  delay, 
the  Bishop  kindly  granted  entrance  to  Major  Wheelwright, 
“hoping  that  it  might  result  in  his  conversion.” 

How  one  longs  to  know  what  this  aunt  and  nephew,  meet¬ 
ing  then  for  the  first  time,  had  to  say  to  each  other, — in  what 
language  they  talked, — what  questions  were  asked  by  the 
captive  of  fifty  years. 

All  we  know  is,  that  at  his  departure,  the  young  man  gave 
to  his  aunt  a  miniature  portrait  of  her  mother,  and  present¬ 
ed  the  Community  with  some  “fine  linen,  a  beautiful  silver 
flagon,  and  a  knife,  fork  and  spoon,  of  the  same  material.”2 

At  the  moment  of  Major  Wheelwright’s  return  to  New 
England,  young  Major  Washington  was  making  his  report 
to  Governor  Dinwiddie,  of  the  refusal  of  the  French  to  aban¬ 
don  their  fort  at  the  headwaters  of  the  Ohio.3  The  tardy  at¬ 
tempt  of  the  English  in  the  following  February,  to  build  a 
fort  at  the  fork  of  the  Ohio,4  brought  on  a  skirmish  between 
Washington  and  the  French  commander,  which,  says  Mr. 
Parkman,  “began  the  war  that  set  the  world  on  fire.” 

'The  attendant  at  the  revolving  grille  at  which  all  visitors  to  the  convent 
apply  for  admission. 

'2This  account  of  Major  Wheelwright’s  visit  may  be  found  in  Histoire  des 
Ursulines  de  Quebec,  p.  327,  Vol.  II.  Our  own  Archives  record  at  least  three 
journeys  of  Major  Nathaniel  Wheelwright  to  Canada  as  ambassador  from  our 
Government  for  the  exchange  of  captives.  See  Appendix:  especially  Wheel¬ 
wright’s  letter  to  Gov.  Shirley,  dated  Nov.  30,  1750,  in  which  he  refers  to  his  em¬ 
bassy  of  the  year  before.  From  this  it  would  seem  as  if  he  must  have  seen 
Esther,  previous  to  1754. 

3This  was  Fort  Le  Boeuf,  on  a  branch  of  the  Alleghany  near  Erie  and  with¬ 
in  the  English  province  of  Virginia. 

4Pittsburg. 


URSULINE  CONVENT  AT  QUEBEC 

AS  COMPLETED  IN  1  723 

From  u  sketch :  >nai{e  in  rXj2  by  Fev.  Merc  Saint-Croix 


ESTHER  WHEELWRIGHT. 


6l 


The  siege  of  Quebec  began  on  the  12th  of  July,  1759.  The 
cannonade  of  the  13th  and  14th,  proved  that  the  convent  must 
be  vacated.  Eight  of  the  sisters  got  leave  to  remain  in  charge. 
Though  there  is  no  positive  proof,  we  have  a  right  to  believe 
that  Esther  of  the  Infant  Jesus,  was  one  of  the  eight.  With 
the  fervor  of  a  devotee,  she  had  the  force  and  the  fearless¬ 
ness  of  the  Wheelwrights.  She  was  sixty-three  years  old, 
and  the  fifth  on  the  list  of  choir  nuns. 

At  sunset  of  the  15th,  [July  25,  1759,  N.  S.]  the  rest  of  the 
Ursulines,  bidding  a  reluctant  farewell  to  the  courageous 
little  band,  sped  swiftly  down  to  the  meadows  of  the  Saint 
Charles,  to  seek  shelter  in  the  convent  attached  to  the  Gen¬ 
eral  Hospital.  The  sisters  of  the  Hotel- Dieu  were  there  be¬ 
fore  them.  The  Hospital,  being  out  of  reach  of  the  projectiles, 
was  the  refuge  of  hundreds  of  people,  fleeing  in  fright  from 
the  ruins  of  the  Lower  Town. 

Imagine  the  consternation  and  anguish  of  the  next  few 
weeks.  The  nuns  at  the  Hospital  were  busy  night  and  day, 
with  the  care  of  the  maimed  and  dying  of  both  armies.  At 
intervals,  the  quick  stroke  of  the  convent  bells  calling  them 
to  their  devotions,  gave  them  their  only  rest.  Above  their 
prayers  rose  the  groans  of  the  wounded,  the  scream  of  shot 
and  shell,  the  roar  of  flames  and  the  crash  of  falling  build¬ 
ings.  In  the  gray  of  the  morning  of  the  sixtieth  day  of  the 
ever  memorable  siege,  the  straggling  file  of  red-coated  sol¬ 
diers,  clambered  up  the  rocky  steeps,  and  formed  in  line  of 
battle  on  the  Plains  of  Abraham.  When  the  shadows  of 
night  gathered  on  that  gory  field,  the  Seven  Years  War  in 
America  was  virtually  ended,  and  the  question  whether  France 
or  England  was  to  be  master  of  this  continent  was  forever 
settled. 

On  the  morning  after  the  battle,  the  gallant  Montcalm 
breathed  his  last.  The  day  was  one  of  dire  distress. 

Venturing  from  the  narrow  cellar  of  the  monastery,  where 


62 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


they  had  stayed  out  the  siege,  Esther  Wheelwright  and  her 
companions  gazed  upon  a  desolate  scene.  In  peril  of  their 
lives,  and  with  great  labor  and  fatigue,  they  had  saved  most 
of  their  windows.  Their  cells  were  demolished,  their  chim¬ 
neys  battered  and  tumbling,  their  roofs  charred  and  riddled. 

Confusion  reigned  everywhere.  No  workman  could  be 
found  to  make  a  coffin  for  Montcalm.  Finally  old  Michel, 
factotum  and  general  overseer  at  the  Convent,  the  tears 
streaming  down  his  face,  nailed  together  a  rough  box  from 
the  debris  of  the  bombardment.  In  this  rude  casket,  at  nine 
o’clock  that  evening,  the  Marquis  de  Montcalm  was  carried 
to  his  rest. 

Silence  and  gloom  brooded  over  the  city.  “Not  a  drum 
was  heard, — nor  a  funeral  note.”  No  gun  was  fired, — not  a 
bell  tolled.  Men  and  women,  wandering  dazed  among  the 
ruins,  fell  into  line  with  the  little  procession  that  bore  the 
dead  soldier  from  the  house  of  the  surgeon  Arnoux  to  his  bur¬ 
ial  in  the  chapel  of  the  Ursulines.  Two  little  girls  stealing 
unnoticed  into  the  church,  stood  by  his  grave,  while  by  the 
flare  of  torches,  the  body  of  the  hero  was  lowered  into  a  hole 
in  front  of  the  altar,  made  by  the  bursting  of  a  shell.  The 
service  for  the  dead  was  chanted  by  three  priests.  The  quiv¬ 
ering  voices  of  Esther  Wheelwright  and  her  sister  nuns 
were  heard  in  response,  then  sobs,  repressed  through  all  the 
horrors  of  the  siege,  burst  forth,  “for”  says  the  annalist,  “it 
seemed  as  if  the  last  hope  of  the  colony  was  buried.” 

General  Murray,  who  was  left  in  command  of  the  English 
troops  in  Canada,  repaired  the  Ursuline  convent,  and  quar¬ 
tered  there  a  part  of  his  wounded  men.  Esther  Wheelwright 
and  her  companions  cheerfully  assumed  the  duties  of  Hospi¬ 
tal  nuns,  and  the  soldiers  proved  themselves  truly  grateful 
for  the  Christian  charity  thus  shown  them.  Among  the 
troops,  was  a  Scotch  regiment.  The  good  nuns  were  so  dis- 


Church.  of  the  Annunciation. 


ESTHER  WHEELWRIGHT. 


63 


tressed  at  seeing  the  strangers  in  a  costume  so  ill  suited  to 
a  Canadian  winter,  that  they  fell  to  knitting  long  stockings 
to  cover  the  bare  legs  of  the  kilted  Highlanders. 

On  the  8th  of  September,  1760,  the  Capitulation  was  signed 
at  Montreal.  It  secured  to  the  Canadians  the  free  enjoy¬ 
ment  of  the  Catholic  religion  and  to  the  Communities  of 
nuns,  their  constitutions  and  privileges.  The  15th  of  the  fol¬ 
lowing  December,  Sister  Esther  Wheelwright  of  the  Infant 
Jesus,  was  elected  Superior  of  the  Ursulines.  Thus,  strangely 
enough,  at  the  moment  of  the  establishment  of  the  English 
Supremacy  in  Canada,  the  first  (and  last),  English  Superior 
of  the  Ursulines  of  Quebec,  was  elected.  Her  election  is  a 
proof  of  her  robust  health  at  this  time,  and  of  the  confidence 
placed  in  her  by  the  Community.  That  she  was  worthy  of 
the  trust,  appears  in  all  her  acts.1 

After  the  fall  of  Quebec,  rations  were  issued  by  the  con¬ 
querors  for  the  subsistence  of  the  people.  The  summer  be¬ 
fore  Esther’s  election,  on  the  withdrawal  of  the  soldiers  from 
the  convent,  General  Murray  had  ordered  that  no  more  pro¬ 
visions  should  be  furnished  to  the  nuns,  except  for  ready 
money.  Such  representations  had  been  made  to  the  General 
by  Esther’s  predecessor  in  office,  that  the  order  was  coun¬ 
termanded.  In  the  spring  after  Esther’s  election,  a  bill  of 
$1352.46,  was  rendered  by  the  commissary  for  provisions  fur¬ 
nished  the  Community  from  Oct.  4,  1759,  to  May  25,  1761. 

’In  1761,  (the  year  following  her  election  as  Superior),  one  of  her  sister’s 
sons,  Joshua  Moody,  son  of  Mary  Wheelwright  Moody,  visited  her.  “One  of 
this  sister’s  granddaughters  was  named  Esther  Wheelwright,  and  to  her  name¬ 
sake,  the  Lady  Superior  sent  by  Mr.  Moody  many  presents,  requesting  that  she 
might  be  entrusted  to  her  care  to  be  educated  in  the  Convent.  Of  course,  the 
Puritan  parents  were  not  disposed  to  gratify  her  in  this  respect.  Among  other 
things,  she  sent  by  Mr.  Moody  her  own  portrait  painted  in  the  dress  of  her  or¬ 
der.  This  is  still  in  the  family,  having  been  handed  down  with  the  name  Esther 
from  generation  to  generation.”  For  the  above  I  am  indebted  to  Mr.  Edmund 
Wheelwright  of  Boston,  who  is  about  to  publish  a  history  of  his  family. 

c.  A.  it. 


64 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


Mother  Esther  wrote  at  once  to  General  Murray,  stating  the 
inability  of  the  nuns  to  pay  the  debt  thus  contracted;  at  the 
same  time  putting  at  the  disposal  of  the  government  certain 
of  the  Community’s  lands.  “Nevertheless,”  she  adds,  “we 
hope  that  upon  the  representations  which  you  will  kindly 
make  in  our  behalf,  his  Majesty  will  not  refuse  to  absolve  us 
from  this  debt.  In  our  confidence  in  your  goodness,  of  which 
you  have  hitherto  given  us  the  most  convincing  proofs,  we 
assure  you  of  our  sincere  gratitude,  and  of  the  respect  with 
which  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  &c.,  &c.,  &c.”  She  might 
have  hinted,  that  the  shelter  and  care  given  to  the  wound¬ 
ed  English  ought  to  count  for  something  towards  the 
payment  of  the  debt.  In  the  interval  of  suspense,  while 
Murray  wrote  for  instructions  to  England,  Esther  wrote  to 
the  Mother  Community  in  Paris:  “We  shall  try  to  do  without 
everything,  for,  for  some  years  we  shall  have  to  heap  up  the 
interest  on  our  French  possessions,  to  pay  the  King  of  Eng¬ 
land  whom  we  owe  thirteen  hundred  and  fifty-two  dollars.” 

From  the  Capitulation  at  Montreal  to  the  Peace  of  Paris, 
the  lot  of  the  French  Canadians  was  hard.  A  sorrowful 
suspense,  as  to  whether  Canada  would  be  restored  to  France, 
agitated  all  hearts.  In  1761,  Esther  writes  to  the  Superior  at 
Paris,  “It  has  just  been  announced  to  us  that  peace  is  made, 
and  that  this  poor  country  is  restored  to  the  French.  I  hope 
it  may  be  true.” 

The  non-arrival  of  letters  from  France,  caused  much  anxi¬ 
ety.  In  October,  writing  again  to  Paris,  she  says,  “Every¬ 
body  of  position  is  surprised  not  to  hear  a  word  by  way  of 
England,  though  many  laymen  have  received  letters.  I 
can  hardly  believe,  however,  that  some  are  intercepted,  more 
than  others.” 

A  later  letter  runs  thus:  “We  shall  very  soon  be  in  a  con¬ 
dition  not  to  be  able  to  dress  ourselves  according  to  the  rules. 
Since  the  war,  we  are  especially  in  need  of  bombazine  for 


ESTHER  WHEELWRIGHT. 


65 


our  veils.  Indeed  the  need  is  so  pressing-,  that  soon  we  shall 
not  be  able  to  appear  decently,  having  nothing  but  rags  to 
cover  our  heads.  We  cannot  buy  these  things  of  the  Eng¬ 
lish.  They  don’t  yet  know  how  to  coiffer  the  nuns.  I  think, 
my  dear  mother,  you  might  send  us  a  few  pieces  of  bomba¬ 
zine  by  some  of  our  Canadians,  who  must  return  to  their  poor 
country.  M.  de  Rouville  who  was  the  bearer  of  your  letters, 
would  have  considered  it  a  pleasure  to  bring  some  bomba¬ 
zine  to  us,  and  could  have  done  so  without  much  trouble. 
There  is  plenty  of  food,  but  everything  is  very  dear,  and  sil¬ 
ver  is  very  scarce,  never  having  been  much  current  in  Can¬ 
ada.” 

A  courteous  letter  from  General  Murray  to  Mother  Esther 
is  extant,  dated  Jan.  2nd,  1764,  thanking  her  for  a  “Happy 
New  Year”  she  had  sent  him,  and  wishing  her  many  in  return. 
After  Murray’s  return  to  England,  the  Mother  Superior  and 
sisters  send  him  gifts  of  their  own  beautiful  handiwork,  which 
he  acknowledges  with  graceful  compliments  and  more  than 
civil  expressions  of  esteem  and  friendship. 

The  first  days  of  April,  1764,  were  spent  by  Mother  Esther 
of  the  Infant  Jesus,  in  profound  retreat,  to  prepare  herself 
for  the  festivities  of  her  Golden  Jubilee,  (the  fiftieth  anniver¬ 
sary  of  her  espousals  as  the  bride  of  Christ,)  which  occurred 
on  the  twelfth  of  April,  1764. 

Nothing  was  omitted  in  the  celebration  of  Esther’s  fiftieth 
year  of  religious  profession  as  an  Ursuline  nun,  to  convince  her 
of  the  love  and  appreciation  of  the  Community.  The  chapel 
was  beautifully  lighted  and  decorated.  After  the  public  re¬ 
newal  of  her  vows  in  the  presence  of  the  Bishop  and  a  mul¬ 
titude  of  people,  mass  was  celebrated  with  fine  organ  music, 
and  much  singing  of  motets.  A  sermon  on  the  happiness 
of  a  religious  life  followed.  At  the  close  of  the  mass,  the 
nuns,  each  with  a  lighted  taper  in  her  hand,  sang  the  Te 
Dcutn ,  accompanied  by  a  flute  and  violin.  The  day  was 


66 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


given  up  to  recreation  and  congratulation.  In  the  Refec¬ 
tory,  there  was  feasting  and  joyful  conversation.  The  great 
hall  was  gay  with  flowers  and  gifts,  and  the  children  of  the 
pension ,  with  song  and  dance,  brought  their  offerings  to  their 
beloved  Mother  Superior.  Late  in  the  afternoon,  a  benedic¬ 
tion  service  was  held,  and  the  day  ended  with  jubilant  music 
of  drum  and  fife. 

In  her  girlhood,  Esther  had  embroidered  much  for  the  al¬ 
tars.  Seeing  at  this  time  the  great  admiration  of  the  English 
for  embroidery  on  birch  bark,  she  encouraged  this  kind  of 
work  among  the  nuns,  and  gave  herself  up  to  it  with  incred¬ 
ible  industry. 

In  May,  1761,  writing  to  the  Procurator  of  the  Ursulines  in 
Paris,  she  says,  “It  is  true  that  notwithstanding  our  misfor¬ 
tunes  one  need  not  lack  the  necessities  of  life,  if  one  had 
plenty  of  money,  but  we  have  only  what  we  earn  by  our  birch 
bark  work.  As  long  as  this  is  the  fashion,  the  money  we  earn 
by  it  is  a  great  help  towards  our  support.  We  sell  it  at  a 
high  price  to  the  English  gentlemen,  yet  they  seem  to  con¬ 
sider  it  a  privilege  to  buy,  so  eager  are  they  for  our  work. 
It  is  really  impossible  for  us  notwithstanding  our  industry, 

to  supply  the  demand.” . “I  should  like  to  know,”  she 

continues,  alluding  to  their  indebtedness  to  the  government, 
“exactly  what  will  be  left,  after  paying  Captain  Barbutt.  Ac¬ 
cording  to  what  you  will  do  me  the  honor  to  write  me  on  this 
point,  we  shall  pay  some  debts  here, — for  we  are  not  lacking 
in  debts,  and  some  pretty  large  ones.  Nobody  but  myself, 
however,  knows  about  them,  and  I  am  in  no  hurry  to  acquaint 
the  Community  with  the  fact,  for  fear  of  distressing  them.” 
This  extract  shows  her  self-reliance,  and  her  tender  consid¬ 
eration  for  her  sister  nuns,  in  sparing  them  anxieties  which 
weighed  heavily  on  her  own  heart. 

Too  constant  use  of  her  eyes,  brought  on  in  her  declining 
years,  weakness  of  sight  and  disease.  When  she  could  no 


■  -I'  *4."  v  ■  <  •  •  .  * 

4  vlli<  . 


WHEELWRIGHT  COAT  OF  ARMS 

From  a  painting  on  silk  done  by  Esther  Wheelwright  and  sent  to 
her  mother  by  Joshua  Moody 


•» 


ESTHER  WHEELWRIGHT. 


67 


longer  embroider  exquisitely,  she  busied  herself  with  mend¬ 
ing  the  underclothing  of  the  Community,  showing  the  same 
skill  and  delicacy  in  darning  and  patching  that  characterized 
her  more  beautiful  handiwork. 

For  nearly  seventy  years,  Esther  Wheelwright  fulfilled 
with  fervor  and  fidelity,  all  the  duties  of  a  monastic  life.  No 
one  was  more  scrupulous  in  the  observance  of  all  its  rules. 
In  the  feebleness  of  age,  as  in  the  vigor  of  youth, — in  sum¬ 
mer’s  heat  and  winter’s  cold,  she  was  always  in  her  place. 
In  learning  to  obey,  she  learned  to  command.  As  a  teacher 
of  young  girls,  she  was  very  successful.  Her  happy  disposi¬ 
tion  and  sweet  temper,  made  her  example  even  more  elo¬ 
quent  than  her  precepts.  With  her,  forbearance  and  gentle¬ 
ness,  with  the  most  charming  politeness,  took  the  place  of  a 
stricter  discipline,  and  never  failed  to  win  the  love  and  obe¬ 
dience  of  her  pupils.  She  was  promoted  to  her  responsible 
position  as  Superior,  at  the  most  critical  epoch  in  the  history 
of  her  adopted  country.  French  in  all  her  sympathies, — a 
Romanist  of  undoubted  zeal, — yet,  undaunted  by  embarass- 
ments  to  which  a  woman  of  less  strength  and  breadth  of 
character  would  have  yielded,  she  so  adapted  herself  to  the 
exigencies  of  the  situation  as  to  win  for  herself,  and  the  Com¬ 
munity,  the  favor  and  respect  of  the  conquerors. 

In  1 766,  the  rules  of  her  Order  not  allowing  her  re-election 
for  a  third  successive  term,  she  was  discharged,  but  again  re¬ 
elected  in  1769.  She  was  then  seventy-two  years  of  age, — 
but  her  mind  and  heart  never  grew  old. 

In  1771,  writing  to  the  Mother  Superior  of  Paris,  she  says,  ‘I, 
beg  you  to  accept  the  assurance  of  our  most  tender  attach¬ 
ment.  I  wish  I  could  give  you  some  proof  of  it,  other  than 
by  words,  but  we  cannot  even  find  a  way  to  send  you  those 
trifles  from  this  country,  which  we  used  to  take  pleasure  in 
sending  you.  In  our  prayers,  you  always  have  a  large  share. 
Pray  for  me  that  God  in  his  infinite  mercy  may  grant  me  a 


68 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


happy  death.”  In  October,  1772,  it  was  feared  that  Mother 
Esther  would  not  live  till  the  December  elections.  She  ral¬ 
lied,  however,  and  on  the  1 5th  was  honorably  discharged  from 
the  superiorship,  only  to  be  made  Assistant  Superior,  and  six 
years  later  Zelatrix. 

At  8  o’clock  in  the  evening  of  the  28th  of  October,  1780, 
Esther  Wheelwright  died,  at  the  age  of  eighty-four  years  and 
eight  months.  “She  died  as  she  had  lived,”  says  the  annalist, 
“in  continual  aspirations  towards  Heaven,  repeating  unceas¬ 
ingly  some  verses  of  the  Psalms . 

Her  ancestors  were  noble,  but  her  heart  was  nobler  still, 
and  the  memory  of  her  virtues  will  be  forever  dear  to  this 
House . From  1712  to  1780,  she  was  one  of  its  finest  or¬ 

naments  and  firmest  supports.” 

The  name  of  Wheelwright  is  still  reverenced  by  the  Ursu- 
lines  of  Quebec.  At  the  convent  to-day,  they  tell  you  with 
pride  of  the  gifts  bestowed  on  them  by  Esther’s  cousin  and 
fellow  captive,  Mary  Sayer.1 

The  silver  flagon  presented  by  Major  Wheelwright  is  still 
in  use  in  their  Infirmary,  and  the  miniature  of  Esther  Wheel¬ 
wright’s  mother,  a  blonde  with  hazel  eyes  and  an  oval  face,  is 
sacredly  preserved.  Retouched  by  the  addition  of  a  veil  and 
drapery,  and  enclosed  in  a  richly  embossed  frame,  containing 
also  four  relies  of  the  Saints,  it  is  now  reverently  cherished 
as  a  Madonna. 

I  have  been  permitted  to  stand  in  the  inner  chapel  of  the 
Ursulines  at  Quebec,  above  the  spot  where  the  mortal  part  of 
Esther  Wheelwright  lies  buried. 

My  fondest  ambition  in  writing  this  story  is  that  in 
some  hour  of  recreation,  it  may  be  read  to  the  novices  by 
the  Mother  Assistant,  who  entering  the  convent  fifty  years 
ago,  found  there  as  a  nun,  the  little  girl  who  saw  the  burial 
of  Montcalm,  and  later  was  an  inmate  of  the  convent,  during 
the  last  seven  years  of  Esther  Wheelwright’s  life. 

’See  “Story  of  a  York  Family.” 


.  4 


MARY  WHEELWRIGHT 

From  1 1  miniature  sent  to  her  daughter  Esther  in  i~3) 


STORY  OF  A  YORK  FAMILY. 


One  midsummer  day  in  the  year  1588,1  the  duke  of  Medina 
Sidonia  looked  in  at  the  Plym’s  mouth  as  he  sailed  by  with 
the  Invincible  Armada  to  conquer  England,  and  said  to  him¬ 
self  in  good  Spanish,  “When  I  shall  have  finished  the  business 
I  have  in  hand,  I  will  build  me  a  lordly  pleasure  house  on  yon¬ 
der  height  and  there  I  will  take  mine  ease.” 

Sir  Francis  Drake  looked  up  from  the  game  of  skittles  he 
was  playing  on  the  Hoe  at  Plymouth,  and  curling  his  mous¬ 
tache,  as  was  his  custom  when  angry,  he  said  to  his  compan¬ 
ion,  “I’ll  finish  the  game  when  I  shall  have  clipped  the  wings 
of  yonder  brave  bird.”  Whether  Drake  returned  to  finish 
his  game  history  does  not  tell  us.  We  are  also  left  to  infer 
that  the  Don’s  plaisance  remained  a  castle  in  the  air. 

Seventeen  years  later,  on  another  midsummer  day,2  some¬ 
body  roused  the  Governor  of  Plymouth  from  his  siesta,  with 
the  exciting  news  that  George  Weymouth  had  come  into 
port  with  five  Indians,  whom  he  had  kidnapped  on  the  Ken¬ 
nebec  river,  in  his  otherwise  fruitless  voyage  to  New  Eng¬ 
land. 


'July  20,  1588. 


2July,  1605. 


7  o 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges,  at  that  time  Governor  of  Plymouth, 
was  living  there  the  listless  life  of  a  garrison  officer.  Into 
the  gubernatorial  mansion  on  the  Hoe  he  took  three  of  Wey¬ 
mouth’s  Indians,  had  them  taught  English  and  kept  them 
three  years.  Did  anybody  ever  compute  the  influence  of 
these  “three  little  Indian  boys”  on  our  history?  They  told 
him  about  the  “stately  islands,”  “safe  harbors”  and  “great 
rivers”  of  their  native  land,  and  inspired  him  to  plant  a  col¬ 
ony  there.  “This  accident,”  says  Sir  Ferdinando,  “was  the 
means  under  God  of  putting  on  foot  and  giving  life  to  all  our 
plantations.” 

Being  a  man  of  wealth,  rank  and  influence,  he  easily  se¬ 
cured  the  co-operation  of  Sir  John  Popham,  Lord  Chief  Jus¬ 
tice  of  England.  How  the  Popham  colony,  planted  by  the 
Plymouth  Company  in  August,  1607,  on  the  Kennebec  river, 
starved  with  the  cold  the  first  winter, — how  Jamestown,  the 
offspring  of  the  London  Company,  thanks  to  a  milder  clime, 
survived, — how  Capt,  John  Smith,  “a  fugitive  slave,”  as  Mr. 
Palfrey  happily  calls  him,  after  founding  the  Old  Dominion, 
sailed  up  and  down  the  New  England  coast,  printed  lavish 
praise  of  its  resources,  and  made  a  map  of  all  its  capes,  in¬ 
lets,  islands  and  harbors,  to  which  Prince  Charles  gave  the 
familiar  names  they  bear  today, — how  Gorges,  not  doubting 
that  God  would  effect  that  which  man  despaired  of,  was  a 
part  of  every  scheme  of  colonization: — all  this  is  known  to 
every  careful  reader  of  our  history. 

It  was  doubtless  under  the  auspices  of  Gorges  that  the  first 
English  settlement  at  Agamenticus  was  made,  and  when  in 
1635,  the  charter  of  New  England  was  surrendered  to  the 
crown  and  its  territory  parcelled  out  among  the  patentees, 
Gorges  received  the  territory  between  the  Merrimac  and  the 
Kennebec,  extending  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  inland. 
With  this  province  of  Maine,  the  Crown  conferred  upon  him 
almost  unlimited  power  and  privilege. 


STORY  OF  A  YORK  FAMILY. 


71 


Mr.  Bancroft  says  of  Sir  Ferdinando,  “The  friend  and  co¬ 
temporary  of  Raleigh,  he  adhered  to  schemes  in  America  for 
almost  half  a  century . and  was  still  bent  on  coloniza¬ 

tion,  at  an  age  when  other  men  are  bnt  preparing  to  die  with 


decorum . Like  another  Romulus,  this  septuagena¬ 
rian  royalist . and  veteran  soldier  resolved  to  perpetuate 


his  name,”  and  in  1642  the  ancient  Agamenticus  became  the 
city  “Gorgeana,”  “As  good  a  city,”  says  Bancroft,  “as  seals 
and  parchment,  a  nominal  mayor  and  alderman,  a  chancery 
court  and  a  court  leet,  sergeant  rolls  and  white  rods  can  make 
of  a  town  of  less  than  300  inhabitants.” 

In  the  King’s  patent  to  Gorges  it  had  been  expressly  stip¬ 
ulated  that  Episcopacy  should  be  the  established  religion  of 
his  province. 

In  1643  John  Wheelwright,  removing  from  Exeter  to  es¬ 
cape  the  bigotry  of  the  Bay  settlements,  betook  himself  to  a 
tract  adjoining  Agamenticus,  which  he  bought  of  Gorges,  to 
which  he  gave  the  name  of  Wells. 

The  same  year  Plymouth  and  the  Bay  Colony  made  a  league 
with  Connecticut  and  New  Haven  for  mutual  protection. 

“Those  of  Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges  his  province . were 

not  received  or  called  into  the  Confederation,”  writes  Win- 
throp,  “because  they  ran  a  different  course  from  us,  both  in 
their  ministry  and  civil  administration,  for  they  had  lately 
made  Accominticus  (a  poor  village)  a  corporation,  and  had 
made  a  taylor  the  mayor,  and  had  entertained  one  Hull,  an 
excommunicated  person,  and  very  contentious,  for  their  min¬ 
ister.”  Whatever  may  have  been  the  faults  and  follies  of 
Sir  Ferdinando  we  cannot  help  admiring  his  persistence — his 
life-long  devotion  to  the  great  idea  of  colonizing  New  Eng¬ 
land. 

In  the  civil  wars  Sir  Ferdinando  fought  with  the  cavaliers 
and  died  before  the  execution  of  the  King.  The  population 
of  the  ancient  city  was  increased  by  the  accession  of  a  con- 


72 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


tingent  of  Scotch  prisoners  taken  by  Cromwell  in  his  famous 
victory  over  Charles  II,  at  Dunbar  in  1650.  These  were 
shipped  over  seas  to  be  sold  as  apprentices  for  a  term  of  years, 
and  naturally  found  a  home  in  the  plantation  of  the  royalist 
Gorges.  Scotland  Parish  is  to-day  a  thriving  and  interesting 
locality  of  the  old  town,  and  the  names  of  McIntyre,  Junkins 
and  Donald  still  survive  there. 

Old  York  is  now  New  York.  Many  of  its  old-time  houses 
have  been  drummed  out  by  the  so-called  march  of  improve¬ 
ment.  The  straggling  cottages  of  the  fishermen  have  disap¬ 
peared  from  the  landscape.  The  winding  cowpath  along  the 
cliff,  through  bayberry  bushes  and  sweet-briar  roses,  has  been 
supplanted  by  the  smooth-clipped  lawns  of  costly  seashore 
estates,  packed  in  too  close  proximity  to  one  another  along 
the  water  front.  The  rugged  face  of  the  cliff,  over  which  the 
woodbine  and  beach  pea  used  to  scramble,  is  now  disfigured 
by  the  unsightly  waste  pipes  of  modern  improvement  that 
wriggle  like  so  many  foul  serpents  to  bury  themselves  be¬ 
neath  the  ocean.  Pretentious  hotels  and  livery  stables  ob¬ 
trude  themselves  upon  the  moorlands,  where  the  “fresh 
Rhodora”  used  to  spread  its  “leafless  bloom.” 

College  youths  in  yachting  costume  and  city  belles  with 
tennis  rackets,  flirt  harmlessly  on  the  beach  at  bathing  time, 
and  in  the  late  afternoon,  the  brilliant  parasols  of  the  gay 
butterflies  of  fashion  flutter  far  afield,  and  prancing  steeds 
with  glistening  trappings  curvet  over  the  rocky  roads  under 
the  guidance  of  liveried  coachmen.  On  Sunday,  a  crowd  in 
silk  attire,  with  gilded  prayerbooks,  wends  its  way  to  a  little 
church  whose  golden  cross  towers  aggressively  above  the 
rock-bound  coast. 

“Behold !  ”  cries  the  Puritan  antiquary,  “the  fulfilment  of 
Sir  Ferdinando’s  dream.”  Then  he  turns  away  to  the  river 
bank,  where  to  this  day  may  be  seen  the  veritable  streets  of 
the  “Ancient  city”  as  laid  out  by  Thomas  Gorges,  its  first 


•«iU- 


THE  JUNKINS  GARRISON  HOUSE 

BUILT  IN  1675 

h'rnw  a  fainting  by  Susan  Minot  Lane  /S~3 


STORY  OF  A  YORK  FAMILY. 


7  3 


mayor.  Pursuing  his  history,  he  reads  that  at  Sir  Ferdinan- 
do’s  death  the  people  of  Gorgeana  wrote  repeatedly  to  his 
heirs  for  instructions,  but  receiving  no  answer  they,  with 
Wells  and  Piscataqua,  formed  themselves  into  a  body  politic 
for  self-government. 

In  1652,  Massachusetts  assumed  control  of  the  settlement, 
the  city  charter  was  annulled  and  Gorgeana,  degraded  from 
her  commanding  position  as  the  first  incorporated  city  in 
America,  joined  the  rank  and  file  of  New  England  towns  un¬ 
der  the  name  of  York. 

The  alarm  of  Philip’s  war  in  1675,  extending  to  the  east¬ 
ward,  the  distressed  inhabitants  built  garrison  houses  against 
Indian  attack.  Two,  known  as  the  Junkins  garrison  and  the 
McIntyre  garrison,  were  standing  on  a  hilltop  in  Scotland 
Parish  of  Old  York  as  late  as  1875.  Of  the  former  not  a  ves¬ 
tige  now  remains,  except  a  panel  that  forms  a  cupboard  door 
in  Frary  house. 

The  first  blow  struck  by  the  enemy  in  the  old  French  and 
Indian  war  fell  upon  the  eastern  towns.  At  the  instigation 
of  the  Jesuit  priests,  Wells,  York,  Berwick,  Kittery  and  others 
received  their  baptism  of  blood  at  the  hands  of  the  French 
and  Indians,  even  before  Deerfield,  Hatfield,  Northampton 
and  Springfield. 

On  the  same  page  in  the  parish  records  of  Canadian 
towns  and  villages,  I  have  often  found  the  deaths,  marriages 
and  baptisms  of  hapless  captives,  carried  from  the  border 
towns  of  Maine  and  Massachusetts.  This  is  why  I  tell  the 
story  of  a  York  family. 

Edward  Rishworth,  or  Rushworth  as  the  name  is  known 
in  England,  the  friend  and  .son-in-law  of  John  Wheelwright, 
and  his  companion  in  exile,  was  one  of  the  grantees  to  whom 
Thomas  Gorges,  nephew  of  Sir  Ferdinando,  gave  authority 
to  lay  out  and  assign  lots  at  Wells. 

In  the  history  of  both  Wells  and  York,  his  intellectual 


V 


74  TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


ability  is  prominent.  He  was  one  of  the  commissioners  of 
the  newly  made  town  of  York  and  clerk  of  the  court  there  the 
same  year. 

In  the  prolonged  resistance  of  the  Province  of  Maine  to 
the  jurisdiction  of  Massachusetts,  Rish worth  was  prominent. 
His  commanding  intelligence  and  his  personal  influence  in 
the  province  is  shown  in  the  humble  petition  of  the  leading 
men  of  Wells,  in  1668,  to  be  restored  to  the  jurisdiction  of 
Massachusetts,  with  apologies  for  their  former  disobedience, 
the  petitioners  assigning  as  the  cause  of  their  dereliction,  the 
influence  of  Mr.  Edward  Rishworth,  they  “having  been  well 
affected  with  said  Rishworth,  and  confiding  in  him.” 

Rishworth  was  appointed  Recorder  for  the  province,  in 
October,  1651,  and  held  the  office  continuously,  except  in 
1668  and  9,  for  thirty-three  years.  In  June,  1686,  Rishworth 
wrote  his  last  official  line,  being  then  an  old  man. 

The  name  of  his  wife,  Susannah,  appears  on  a  legal  paper 
for  the  last  time  in  1675.  So  far,  I  have  found  but  two  chil¬ 
dren  of  Edward  and  Susannah  Rishworth,  daughters  Mary 
and  Susannah.  Her  grandfather  Wheelwright,  in  his  will 
dated  Nov.  15,  1679,  names  “my  son-in-law,  Edward  Rish¬ 
worth,”  and  “my  grandchild,  Mary  White,  daughter  of  ye 
said  Rishworth.”  This  proves  that  Mary  Rishworth,  then 
about  eighteen,  was,  at  this  date,  the  wife  of  one  White. 

I  assume  that  this  White,  and  Rishworth’s  wife  had  both 
died  before  October,  1682,  when,  as  he  says,  for  “diver’s  good 
causes . and  more  espetially  for  yt  tender  love  and  affec¬ 

tion  which  I  beare  unto  my  beloved  daughter,  Mary  Sayword, 
wife  to  John  Sayword,”  he  conveyed  all  his  property  to  his 
“sonn-in-law,  John  Sayword,”  for  £60,  to  be  used  in  the  pay¬ 
ment  of  Rishworth’s  debts. 

At  the  same  time,  Sayword  gives  his  bond,  “to  pay  unto 

father  Rishworth . the  just  some  of  six  pounds  per  Ann : 

to  bee  pay’d  in  good  Mrchan’ble  pay,  boards,  provisions,  or 


JLAKE  WIirmPISSEOCKB,  FIOl  IREK)  HIE 


STORY  OF  A  YORK  FAMILY. 


75 


such  other  goods  as  his  ocations . shal  require . to 

bee  Delivered  at  Yorke  at  the  house  of  sd  John  Say  word  which 

hee  bought  of  ye  sd  Rishworth  his  father-in-law  who . 

is  to  have  ye  free  uss  of  ye  lower  Roume  hee  now  liveth 

in . at  his  soole  disposeing,  as  also  to  have  his  horse  kept 

bysd  John  Sayword,  at . Sayword’s  charge . and  yt 

is  to  bee  understood . that  sd  John  Sayword  is  to  mayn- 

tain  sd  Rishworth . with  comfortable  dyet,  so  long  as  he 

sees  good  to  live  with  him . And  is  to  provide  conven¬ 

ient  fire  wood  for  his  Roume  as  his  necessity  shall  require.” 

“An  inventory  of  the  Estate  of  Mr.  Edward  Rishworth,  de¬ 
ceased,”  dated  Feb.  13,  1689,  [sic]  gives  us  approximately,  the 
date  of  his  death.  On  Feb,  25,  1690-91  [sic],  Mrs.  Mary  Hull 
took  oath  that  it  was  “a  true  Inventory  of  the  Estate  of  her 
deceased  father,  Edward  Rishworth.” 

By  these  three  legal  papers,  we  learn  that  John  Sayword, 
millwright  of  York,  was  living  in  October,  1682,  as  the  husband 
of  Rishworth’s  daughter  Mary,  and  that  on  the  death  of  her 
father,  either  in  1689  or  1690,  [see  ante]  this  daughter,  as 
Mrs.  Mary  Hull,  attests  the  truth  of  the  inventory  of  her 
father’s  estate. 

I,  as  yet,  find  no  record  of  John  Sayword’s  birth  and  par¬ 
entage.  He  may  have  been  the  son  of  Henry  Sayword,  a 
prominent  man  in  the  annals  of  Wells  and  York.  Millwright 
is  a  common  appendage  to  the  names  of  Maine  men  of  that 
period,  for  men  must  eat  and  be  sheltered.  The  mill  pond 
in  York,  where  John  Sayword  must  have  ground  the  grists 
and  sawed  the  lumber  for  the  country  round  about,  is  well 
known. 

We  have  a  grant  from  the  town  of  York  to  John  Sayword, 
dated  Dec.  10,  1680,  of  three  20-acre  lots  of  land  with  mill 
privilege  and  timber  rights,  conditioned  on  his  building  gal¬ 
leries  and  seats  in  the  meeting  house. 

“First  that  the  Said  Sayword,  shall  build  or  cause  to  bee  built  at 


76 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


ye  meeting  house  at  York,  three  sufficient  Gallerys,  with  three  con¬ 
venient  seats  in  each  Gallery  and  one  beanch  beside,  in  ye  hyest 
Rowme  in  every  gallery  If  the  sd  Conveniency  of  Rowme  will  bare 
it,  the  fronture  seats,  hee  is  to  make  with  barresters,  and  two  peyre 
of  stayrs  to  go  up  into  the  gallerys,  one  for  ye  men  and  another  for 
the  wimine.  Second  :  The  sd  John  Say  word  stands  Ingagd,  to  seat 
the  sd  Meeting  house  below,  with  convenient  Seates,  too  Seates  to 
be  barrestred  below,  one  for  men  and  ye  other  for  wimine  ;  and  re- 
payreing  of  ye  defects  yt  are  in  the  ould  Seates,  and  by  makeing 
and  adding  so  many  more  new  Seates,  as  shall  be  necessary  for  ye 
full  and  decent  seateing  of  the  whoole  house.  Which  worke  in  mak¬ 
ing  of  Gallerys  and  seateing  the  lower  part  of  the  sayd  house,  is  by 
John  Say  word  to  bee  done  and  finished  at  his  own  proper  Charge, 
(nayles  onely  excepted)  which  the  Town  is  Ingag’d  to  provide,  very 
speedily,  at  or  before  the  last  of  October  next  Insewing,  Ann  :  Dom  : 
1681. 

There  is  a  deed  signed  by  Say  word,  March  24,  1684,  and 
also  by  “Mary  Sayword,  the  younger.”  As  I  cannot  suppose 
this  to  be  his  daughter  Mary,  (then  only  thirteen)  it  must  be 
his  wife,  nee  Mary  Rishworth,  who  on  this  occasion  signs 
herself  Mary  “the  younger,”  to  distinguish  herself  from  his 
mother  Mary,  which  again  inclines  me  to  the  belief  that  John 
Sayword  was  son  of  Henry,  whose  wife  Mary  long  survived 
him.  John  Sayword  probably  died  early  in  December,  1689  ; 
for  on  Christmas  Day  of  that  year,  which  was  neither  a  holy 
day  nor  a  holiday  with  the  Puritans,  Mrs.  Mary  Sayword  ap¬ 
peared  and  took  oath  to  the  inventory  of  her  husband’s  es¬ 
tate,  which  was  valued  at  ^85. 

She  was  administratrix,  and  with  Matthew  Austin,  gave  a 
bond  for  £\66 ,  for  the  lawful  administration  of  her  husband’s 
estate.  How  soon  after  Sayword’s  death  his  widow  became 
the  wife  of  one  Hull,  does  not  yet  appear,  but  as  we  have 
seen,  she,  as  Mary  Hull,  testified  to  the  inventory  of  her  fa¬ 
ther’s  estate,  on  Feb.  25,  1690-91  [see  ante].  Her  connection 
with  Hull  must  have  been  brief,  for  at  the  time  of  the  attack 


STORY  OF  A  YORK  FAMILY. 


77 


on  York,  Feb.  5,  1692,  Mary  Rishworth,  then  but  thirty-two 
years  old,  was  living-  with  her  fourth  husband,  James  Plaisted. 
Of  Plaisted’s  ancestry  or  antecedents,  or  of  the  date  of  his 
marriage  to  the  young  widow  Hull,  I  have  so  far  found 
nothing. 

Of  the  calamity  at  York,  Feb.  5,  1692,  Cotton  Mather  writes  : 

“Great  was  the  share  that  fell  to  the  Family  of  Mr.  Shubael 

hummer . He  had  been  solicited,  with  many  temptations  to 

leave  his  Place  when  the  Clouds  grew  Thick  and  Black  in  the  In¬ 
dian  Hostilities,  but  he  chose  rather  with  a  Paternal  affection  to 
stay.  ..«•...  In  a  word,  he  was  one  that  might  by  way  of  Eminency 

be  called  A  Good  Man . He  was  just  going  to  take  Horse  at 

his  own  Door,  upon  a  journey  in  the  Service  of  God,  when  the  Ty- 
gres  that  were  making  their  Depredations  upon  the  sheep  of  York, 
seized  upon  this  their  shepherd;  and  they  shot  him  so  that  they  left 
him  Dead.” . 

His  wife,  Susannah  Rishworth,  sister  of  Mary  Rishworth 
Plaisted,  “they  carried  into  captivity,”  continues  Mather, 
“where  through  sorrows  and  hardships  among  those  Dragons  of  the 
Desart,  she  also  quickly  Died;  and  his  Church  as  many  of  them  as 
were  in  that  Captivity,  endured  this  among  other  anguishes,  that  on 
the  next  Lord’s  Day,  one  of  the  Tawnies  chose  to  exhibit  himself 
unto  them  [A  Devil  as  an  Angel  of  Light!]  in  the  Cloaths  whereof 
they  had  stript  the  Dead  Body  of  this  their  Father — Many  were  the 
tears  that  were  Dropt  throughout  New  England  on  this  occasion.” 

Mather  calls  the  York  minister, 

“The  Martyr’d  Pelican ,  who  Bled 
Rather  than  leave  his  charge  unfed. 

A  proper  Bird  of  Paradise 

Shot, — and  Flown  thither  in  a  trice.” 

James  Plaisted’s  wife  was  taken,  with  her  two  children, 
Mary  and  Esther  Sayword,  aged  respectively  eleven  and 
seven,  and  her  baby  boy.  This  is  Mather’s  relation: 

“Mary  Plaisted,  the  wife  of  Mr.  James  Plaisted,  was  made  a  cap¬ 
tive,  about  three  weeks  after  her  Delivery  of  a  male  Child.  They 


78 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


then  took  her,  with  her  Infant  off  her  bed  and  forced  her  to  travel 
in  this,  her  weakness,  the  best  part  of  a  Day  without  any  Respect 
of  Pity.  At  Night  the  Cold  ground,  in  the  Open  Air,  was  her  Lodg¬ 
ing;  and  for  many  a  Day  she  had  no  Nourishment  but  a  little  water 
with  a  little  Bear’s  Flesh,  which  rendered  her  so  Feeble  that  she, 
with  her  Infant  were  not  far  from  totally  starved. — Upon  her  cries 
to  God,  there  was  at  length  some  supply  sent  by  her  Master’s  tak¬ 
ing  a  Moose,  the  Broth  whereof  recovered  her.  But  she  must  now 
Travel  many  Days  through  Woods  and  Swamps  and  Rocks,  and 
over  Mountains,  and  Frost,  and  Snow,  until  she  could  stir  no  far¬ 
ther.  Sitting  down  to  Rest,  she  was  not  able  to  rise,  till  her  Dia¬ 
bolical  Master  helped  her  up,  which,  when  he  did,  he  took  her  Child 
from  her,  and  carried  it  unto  a  River,  where,  stripping  it  of  the  few 
Rags  it  had,  he  took  it  by  the  heels  and  against  a  Tree  dash’d  out 
its  Brains,  and  then  flung  it  into  the  River.  So  he  returned  unto 
the  miserable  mother,  telling  her  she  was  now  Eased  of  her  Burden, 
and  must  walk  faster  than  she  did  before!  ” 

Was  this  infant  the  posthumous  son  of  her  third  husband, 
Hull?  He  does  not  appear  on  the  old  York  records  among 
the  children  of  James  Plaisted. 

A  native  poet  has  thus  immortalized  the  attack  on  York: 


They  marched  for  two  and  twenty  daies, 

All  through  the  deepest  snow; 

And  on  a  dreadful  winter  morn, 

They  struck  the  cruel  blow. 

Hundreds  were  murthered  in  their  beddes, 
Without  shame  or  remorse; 

And  soon,  the  floors  and  roads  were  strewed 
With  many  a  bleeding  corse. 

The  village  soon  began  to  blaze. 

To  heighten  misery’s  woe; 

But,  O,  I  scarce  can  bear  to  tell, 

The  issue  of  that  blow! 

They  threw  the  infants  on  the  fire; 

The  men  they  did  not  spare; 

But  killed  all,  which  they  could  find 
Though  aged,  or  though  fair. 


STORY  OF  A  YORK  FAMILY. 


79 


Our  next  meeting  with  Mary  Rishworth  Plaisted  is  at  her 
baptism  in  Montreal.  The  following  is  a  free  translation  of 
the  Parish  record: 

On  the  8th  of  December,  1693,  there  was  baptized  sous  condition , 
an  English  woman  from  New  England,  named  in  her  own  country, 
Marie,  who  born  at  York  on  the  8th  of  January  O.  S.  1660,  of  the 
marriage  of  Edouard  Rishworth,  and  Suzanne  Willwright,  both  Pro¬ 
testants  of  Lincoln  in  old  England,  and  married  last  to  Jacques 
Pleisted,  Protestant  of  New  England,  was  captured  the  25th  of  Jan¬ 
uary  O.  S.  of  the  year  1692  with  two  of  her  children,  Marie  Genevieve 
Sayer  born  the  4th  of  April  O.  S.  1681,  and  Marie  Joseph  Sayer, 
born  the  9th  of  March  O.  S.  1685,- — by  the  savages  of  Acadia,  and  now 
lives  in  the  service  of  Madame  Catherine  Gauchet,  widow  of  M. 
Jean  Baptiste  Migeon,  appointed  by  the  King  first  lieutenant  gen¬ 
eral  of  the  bailiwick  established  by  his  Majesty  in  Montreal.  Her 
name  Marie,  has  been  kept,  and  that  of  Madeleine  added  to  it.  Her 
god-father  was  M.  Jean  Baptiste  Juchereau,  lieutenant-general  of 
the  Royal  bailiwick  of  Montreal,  and  her  god-mother,  Madame  Made¬ 
leine  Louise  Juchereau. 

Signed. 

Mary  Magdalen  Pleistead  signs  the  record  in  a  good  hand¬ 
writing.  So  also  do  her  god-parents,  Juchereau  and  Madame, 
his  wife,  Catherine  Gauchet,  and  finally  Jean  Fremont,  Cure 
— all  as  clear  as  if  written  yesterday.1 

Two  lists  in  our  archives  tell  briefly  the  story  of  the  final 
separation  of  Mary  Rishworth  Plaisted  from  these  Sayword 
children,  one  is  the  “Names  of  English  captives  Redeemed 
from  Quebec  by  Math’w  Carey  in  Oct’br,  1695,”  which  con- 

'The  information  conveyed  by  this  simple  baptismal  record  is  remarkable. 
It  gives  the  date  of  the  captive’s  birth,  and  consequently  her  age  when  taken; 
her  mother’s  name,  about  which  historians  disagree, — the  home  of  her  father 
and  mother  in  both  Old  England  and  New, — the  fact  of  her  marriage  to  Plaisted 
before  her  capture, — the  dates  of  the  births  of  her  daughters  and  by  inference 
their  ages, — the  fact  that  previous  to  this  they  had  been  already  baptized  in 
Canada,  and  the  names  then  given  them — and,  finally  that  the  name  Sayword 
had  already  become  Sayer  in  Canada. 


8o 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


tains  the  name  of  “Mrs.  Mary  Plaisted  York.”  Another  sent 
at  the  same  time,  is  of  “Those  Remaining-  still  in  the  hands 
of  the  French  of  Canada,”  and  bears  the  names  of  the  two 
sisters : 

Mary  Sayard  girll  Dover 
Esth  Svva3Tard  “  “ 

In  October,  1696,  a  year  after  Mary  Plaisted’s  redemption, 
she  was  “Presented  at  the  court  at  Wells,  for  not  attending 
ye  Publick  worship  of  God  upon  ye  Lord’s  Day.” 

The  godless  weaklings  of  our  day  might  find  palliating 
circumstances,  without  considering  the  hardships  of  her 
every  day  life,  and  the  terrible  experiences  of  her  recent  cap¬ 
tivity.  Nevertheless, 

“Mr.  James  Plaisted,  at  the  following  court  held  at  York,  on  the 
6th  of  April,  1697,  appearing  in  behalf  of  his  wife,  to  answer  her 
presentment  for  not  frequenting  ye  Publick  worship  of  God  upon  ye 
Lord’s  Pay,  she  being  under  some  bodily  infirmity,  hindering  her 
own  appearance,  Is  for  her  offence  to  pay  4s.  6d.  fine,  and  to  be  ad¬ 
monished;  ffees  payd  in  court.” 

In  April,  1696,  “Lycence  was  granted  to  Mr.  James  Play- 
stead  to  retayle  bear,  syder  an  victuals  at  his  now  dwelling 
house.”  This  license  was  renewed  from  year  to  year. 

January  20,  1707,  there  is  this  vote  of  the  town,  from  which 
it  appears  that  the  conditional  agreement  between  the  town 
and  John  Say  word  had  not  been  faithfully  kept,  by  one  or 
both  parties : 

“Whereas,  there  is  several  differences  between  the  Inhabitants  of 
the  town  of  York  in  the  Province  of  Maine  in  the  Massachusetts 
Government,  and  Mr.  James  Plaisted  and  Mary  his  now  wife,  the 
Relict  of  John  Saword,  all  of  said  York,  relating  to  work  done  by 

said  John  Say  word  aforesaid,  to  York  meeting  house . A  referee 

shall  be  chosen  by  the  town  and  another  by  Plaisted  and  his  wife,  to 
hear,  and  determine,  all  Differences.” 


STORY  OF  A  YORK  FAMILY. 


8l 


James  and  Mary  Plaistedboth  sign  an  agreement  on  penalty 
of  fifty  dollars,  to  accept  the  result  of  the  arbitration. 

Later  “Wm.  Sawer,”  [Say word]  and  “Wm,  Goodsoe”  state 
that  they  “have  looked  over  the  matter  and  cannot  agree  and 
have  left  it  out  to  Daniel  Emery  of  Kittery  to  make  a  final 
end  of  the  controversy.” 

July  ii,  1710,  Capt.  James  Plaisted  and  his  wife  Mary, 
deed  land  together.  Here,  busied  with  the  occupations  of 
the  yeomanry  of  the  period  in  New  England,  active  in  church 
and  state,  respected  and  worthy  citizens  of  old  York,  and  in 
the  prime  of  life,  we  will  leave  them  and  look  for  their  two 
daughters,  left  behind  in  Canada. 

Many  summers  ago,  in  an  idle  hour  and  with  no  purpose.  I 
copied  a  few  pages  from  the  old  town  records  of  York.  It 
was  long  before  I  had  heard  of  James  Plaisted  and  his  wife 
Mary  Rishworth.  The  quaint  spelling  and  simple  directness 
of  the  language  interested  me,  but  it  seems  to  have  been  by 
what  Cotton  Mather  would  have  called  a  Remarkable  Provi¬ 
dence,  that  this  particular  page  of  the  record  should  have 
captivated  me. 

A  humble  romance  seemed  to  unfold  itself  in  this  step¬ 
father,  willing  to  father  his  wife’s  children  by  a  former  mar¬ 
riage,  though  his  own  children,  later  born,  are  naturally  put 
first  in  the  record.  Here  is  the  storv  as  it  stands,  written 
more  than  two  hundred  years  ago  on  the  old  book : 

James  Plaisted,  Bearths  of  His  children.  Lydia  Plaisted  was 
Borne  the  fouerth  day  of  Janerwary  in  ye  year  1696. 

Olife  Plaisted  was  Borne  the  first  day  of  May  in  ye  year  1698. 

Mary  Sayward  was  Borne  the  fouerth  April  1681. 

Susannah  Sayward  was  Borne  the  ninth  day  of  May  1683. 

Esther  Sayward  was  Borne  the  seventh  day  of  March  1685. 

Hannah  Sayward  was  borne  the  twenty-one  of  June  1687. 

John  Sayward  was  Borne  second  of  Janerwary  1690. 


82 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


The  last  was  evidently  a  posthumous  child,  the  only  son, 
born  shortly  after  the  death  of  his  father,  John  Say  ward,  and 
named  for  him. 

We  are  now  to  follow  the  fortunes  of  Mary,  the  first  born, 
and  Esther,  the  third  child  of  John  Say  ward  and  his  wife, 
Mary  Rishworth. 

On  the  parish  records  of  Notre  Dame  in  Montreal,  with  the 
baptism  of  their  mother  is  a  note  interlined,  in  a  different 
handwriting,  and  apparently  written  long  after.  This  note 
records  the  indisputable  fact  that  on  the  same  day  and  in  the 
same  church,  her  two  daughters  were  also  baptized.  As  it 
was  the  custom  of  the  church  to  add  the  names  of  saints 
to  the  newly  baptized,  Mary,  the  elder,  then  about  thirteen, 
received  the  added  name  of  Genevieve.  Esther,  the  younger, 
lost  her  New  England  name  entirely  and  was  re-baptized  as 
Marie  Joseph,  she  being  then  about  eight  years  old. 

In  a  list  of  the  pupils  of  the  nuns  of  the  Congregation  in 
1693,  the  name  of  one  of  the  Sayer  sisters  appears. 

When  we  remember  that  the  captives  were  in  Canada  dur¬ 
ing  the  most  romantic  period  of  the  history  of  New  F ranee 
— that  they  saw  daily  those  whose  religious  devotion  has  won 
them  world-wide  fame,  truth  seems  stranger  than  fiction. 

A  profound  impression  must  have  been  made  upon  the 
sensibilities  of  all  the  young  captive  girls  when  Jeanne  Le 
Ber,  the  only  daughter  of  the  richest  merchant  in  Montreal, 
renounced  the  world  and  abandoned  her  family,  to  devote 
herself  to  a  religious  life.  Marie  Genevieve  Sayer  was,  no 
doubt,  perfectly  familiar  with  the  face  of  the  young  devotee, 
and  witnessed  her  voluntary  incarceration  in  the  cell  which 
she  had  had  built  for  her,  behind  the  altar  in  the  chapel  of 
the  Congregation. 

At  five  o’clock  on  the  evening  of  Aug.  5,  1695,  after  ves¬ 
pers,  M.  Dollier  de  Casson,  with  all  his  clergy  in  splendid 
attire,  went  to  the  house  of  the  Seigneur  Le  Ber,  whence, 


STORY  OF  A  YORK  FAMILY. 


83 


chanting  psalms  and  prayers,  they  marched  in  procession. 
Behind  them  came  the  young  Jeanne  Le  Ber.  She  was  robed 
in  gray,  with  a  black  girdle.  Her  father,  pale  with  weeping, 
accompanied  her,  followed  by  all  their  friends  and  relatives. 

The  people  who  thronged  the  streets,  awe-struck  at  the 
unusual  spectacle,  could  not  restrain  their  sobs.  To  them  the 
act  about  to  be  consummated,  seemed  like  a  living  death  to 
both  father  and  child.  On  arriving  at  the  chapel  the  recluse 
fell  upon  her  knees,  while  M.  Dollier  blessed  her  little  cell 
and  spoke  to  her  a  few  words  of  counsel. 

Her  heart-broken  father,  unable  to  bear  the  sight,  fled 
weeping  from  the  spot.  But  Jeanne  Le  Ber,  with  tearless 
eyes  and  steady  hand,  firmly  closed  the  door  upon  herself 
forever. 

Three  years  later,  Mary  Sayer  must  have  been  present  at 
a  happier  scene,  in  the  same  little  chapel  at  what  we  may 
consider  the  permanent  establishment  of  the  order  of  the 
Nuns  of  the  Congregation  in  Montreal.  The  three  years  of 
anxiety,  discussion  and  delay  were  ended.  The  rules  of  the 
order  had  been  the  day  before,  “solemnly  accepted  and  signed 
by  all  the  Community.”  Now,  on  the  morning  of  the  25th 
of  June,  1698,  the  religious  world  of  Villemarie  had  assem¬ 
bled  to  witness  the  performance  of  “that  article  of  the  regu¬ 
lations  which  prescribed  the  simple  vow  of  poverty,  chastity, 
obedience  and  the  teaching  of  little  girls.” 

There  were  the  most  distinguished  of  the  Sulpitian  priests, 
conspicuously  the  zealous  and  scholarly  Father  Meriel. 
There  was  the  Vicar-General,  Dollier  de  Casson,  “tall  and 

portly,  a  soldier  and  a  gentleman — albeit  a  priest . As 

pleasant  a  father  as  ever  said  Benedicite ,”  says  Mr.  Parkman. 
There  was  the  great  bishop,  Saint-Vallier — dominant,  a  pas¬ 
sionate  extremist,  believing  in  himself  and  impatient  of  con¬ 
tradiction — fulminating  in  those  days  as  sharply  against  the 


84 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


“big-  sleeves”  and  “low-necked  dresses”  of  Quebec  damsels 
as  the  sternest  Puritan  of  the  period,  in  Boston. 

Perhaps  a  shade  of  disapointment  clouded  the  brow  of  the 
haughty  prelate  at  his  failure  to  force  the  cloister  upon  the 
ladies  of  the  Congregation;  perhaps  also  a  corresponding 
elation  on  the  face  of  Marguerite  Bourgeois  at  the  success  of 
her  passage  at  arms  with  that  almost  indomitable  will. 

Well  might  she  have  said,  “Lord,. now  lettest  thou  thy  ser¬ 
vant  depart  in  peace.”  However  this  may  be,  the  hour  was 
one  of  peace  and  joy  for  the  Sisters,  as  one  after  the  other, 
each  pronounced  her  vows  and  received  from  the  bishop  the 
name  of  some  noted  saint  or  martyr,  by  which  thereafter  she 
was  to  be  known. 

The  fact  that  the  name  of  Marie  des  Anges  does  not  ap¬ 
pear  in  the  list  of  those  who  took  part  in  this  solemn  cere¬ 
mony  seems  to  prove  that  Marie  Genevieve  Sayer  had  not 
yet  completed  the  two  years  of  preparation  necessary  be¬ 
fore  assuming  all  the  rights  and  duties  of  a  convent  life,  but 
was  still  living  under  the  direction  of  the  Maitrcsse  des  No¬ 
vices.  She  was  then  about  eighteen,  and  must  soon  after 
have  taken  up  the  full  duties  and  responsibilities  of  her 
office;  for,  although  the  name  of  her  sister  appears  often  on 
Montreal  records,  her  own  is  seen  no  more  after  the  baptism 
of  her  mother  in  1693. 

The  years  following  her  novitiate  were  busy  ones  for  the 
nuns  of  Canada.  Up  and  down  the  St.  Lawrence,  missions 
had  been  early  founded  by  the  Sisters  of  the  Congregation. 
With  incredible  fatigue,  but  untiring  zeal,  Marguerite  Bour¬ 
geois  had  gone  back  and  forth  between  Montreal  and  Quebec, 
often  in  winter  creeping  prostrate  over  frozen  streams  or 
wading  knee-deep  in  the  icy  water. 

The  Mission  of  the  Mountain  was  removed  to  Sault  au 
Recollet.  Soeur  Marie  des  Anges,  (the  captive  Marie  Gene¬ 
vieve  Sayer)  was  there  at  the  head  of  the  Mission  School  for 


STORY  OF  A  YORK  FAMILY* 


85 


girls,  and  the  Deerfield  captive,  Abigail  Nims,  among  others 
was  there  under  her  care.1 

The  missions  at  Quebec  were,  for  many  reasons,  of  special 
importance,  and  the  choice  of  the  New  England  captive  for 
that  place,  shows  the  esteem  in  which  Marie  Genevieve  Sayer 
was  held  by  her  sister  nuns.  Only  those  “distinguished  by 
their  merits,  by  their  courage,  prudence  and  ability,”  were 
appointed.  Though  the  records  thereafter  are  silent  con¬ 
cerning  her,  it  would  be  easy  to  read  her  story  between  the 
lines  that  record  the  labors  of  the  successors  of  Marguerite 
Bourgeois  between  1698  and  1717  at  Quebec. 

While  looking  for  Deerfield  captives  at  Quebec,  the  word 
Angloise  in  the  margin  of  the  record,  led  me  to  the  follow¬ 
ing, — only  this  and  nothing  more: 

“The  28th  of  March,  1717,  was  buried  in  the  Parish  Church,  Sis¬ 
ter  Marie  des  Anges,  a  mission  sister  of  the  Congregation,  who  died 
the  same  day,  aged  about  36  years.  The  burial  was  made  by  me,  the 
undersigned  priest,  Vicar  of  the  Parish,  Canon  of  the  Cathedral,  in 
presence  of  M.  Glandelet,  Dean,  and  M.  Des  Maizerets,  precentor 
of  said  Cathedral.” 

So,  far  from  kith  or  kin,  Mary  Rishworth’s  eldest  daughter 
slept  her  last  sleep,  after  a  short,  eventful  and  useful  life. 

The  policy  of  the  Canadian  government  was  to  keep  as 
many  of  our  captives  as  possible,  especially  those  of  leading 
New  England  families,  to  make  good  Catholics  of  them,  and 
finally  to  wed  them  either  to  the  church  or  state. 

Esther  Sayward,  whom  we  know  in  Canada  as  Marie  Joseph 
Sayer,  was  educated  by  the  nuns  of  the  Congregation,  and 
probably  remained  under  their  protection  till  her  marriage. 
Naturalization  was  granted  her  in  May,  1710. 

On  the  5th  of  January,  1712,  in  the  parish  church  of  Mon¬ 
treal,  “in  presence  of  many  relatives  and  friends  of  the  par¬ 
ties,”  she  was  married  to  the  Seigneur  Pierre  de  L’Estage, 

'See  “The  Two  Captives.” 


86 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


merchant,  of  Montreal.  The  fact  that  the  three  banns  were 
dispensed  with,  hints  that  ambassadors  from  our  government, 
concerning  an  exchange  of  prisoners,  were  then  in  Canada, 
and  it  was  thought  best  speedily  to  clip  the  wings  of  this 
captive  bird. 

Marie  Joseph,  the  first  child  of  Pierre  de  L’Estage  and 
Marie  Joseph  Sayer,  was  born  October  i,  1712.  The  child’s 
godmother  was  “Marie  hardin,”  who  “could  not  sign  the  rec¬ 
ord,  on  account  of  her  great  age.”  This  child  died  at  the 
age  of  four.  Jacques  Pierre,  the  second  child,  was  born  and 
baptized  Aug.  5,  1714.  Its  godparents  were  Jacques  Le  Ber, 
Seigneur  de  Senneville,  and  Madame  Repentigny.  In  the 
record  the  father  is  called  “Monsieur  Pierre  Lestage,  Mar- 
chand  Bourgeois  of  this  city  and  treasurer  for  the  king.” 
In  1 71 5,  he  became  the  owner  of  the  Seigniory  of  Berthier,  op¬ 
posite  Sorel,  on  the  north  shore  of  the  St.  Lawrence. 

To  the  kindness  of  Rev.  Pere  Moreau,  cure  of  Notre  Dame 
des  Monts,  county  of  Terrebonne,  antiquary,  savant  and 
author  of  the  History  of  Berthier,  I  am  indebted  for  the  fol¬ 
lowing  : 

“Pierre  de  Lestage  built  the  first  Catholic  church  of  Ber¬ 
thier,  about  1723,  and  obtained  on  Dec.  3,  1732,  from  Gov¬ 
ernor  Beauharnois  and  the  Intendant  Hocquart,  a  great  ad¬ 
dition  to  his  Seigniory  because,  as  is  said  in  the  deed;  ‘he 
was  worthy  of  it.’  ” 

He  also  improved  the  highways,  and  built  at  Berthier  a 
saw  mill,  a  gristmill  and  a  fine  mansion  for  himself  with  a 
grand  avenue  leading  thereto,  which  still  exist.  His  friend 
M.  Louis  Lepage,  Vicar-general  of  Quebec,  and  Seigneur  of 
Terrebonne,  having  founded  there  the  parish  of  St.  Louis, 
built  for  it  a  stone  church,  to  which  he  gave  a  chime  of  bells 
and  invited  his  friend  De  L’Estage  to  be  godfather  at  the 
ceremony  of  the  blessing  of  the  bells. 

At  eight  o’clock  in  the  morning  of  the  21st  of  December, 


STORY  OF  A  YORK  FAMILY. 


87 


1 743,  at  the  age  of  sixty-three,  the  Sieur  de  L’Estage,  husband 
of  Marie  Joseph  Saver,  died  in  Montreal.  The  next  day  his 
body  was  carried  to  the  church  of  Notre  Dame,  where  a  sol¬ 
emn  mass  was  said.  From  there  it  was  borne  to  the  church 
of  the  Recollet  fathers,  and  buried. 

Father  Moreau  writes  that  “he  left  his  wealth  jointly  to  his 
widow,  Marie  Joseph  Esther  Sayer,  to  his  sister  living  in 
Bayonne,  France,  and  to  a  nephew  of  the  same  place.” 

The  death  of  her  husband  and  children  was  a  severe  blow 
to  Madame  de  L’Estage.  She  naturally  turned  for  sympathy 
and  consolation  to  her  beloved  nuns,  who  had  befriended  her 
girlhood.  Doubtless  by  their  advice,  she  purchased  a  house 
adjoining  the  convent  and  adopted  two  girls  whom  she  edu¬ 
cated  at  the  convent.  They  afterwards  became  nuns,  and 
were  known  as  Soeurs  Sainte  Basile  and  Sainte  Pierre.  The 
ladies  of  the  convent  having  permitted  Madame  de  L’Estage 
to  cut  a  door  between  the  two  houses,  she  spent  the  recrea¬ 
tion  hours  with  her  adopted  children  in  the  convent.  One 
of  these  daughters  died  at  the  age  of  twenty-five,  the  other 
at  eighty.  Affliction  and  increasing  age  led  her  to  sell  the 
Seigniory  of  Berthier  in  February,  1765,  for  a  life  annuity  of 
1 500  livres,1  which,  with  an  annual  income  from  her  husband’s 
estates  in  France,  handsomely  supplied  her  wants.  Tender¬ 
ly  cared  for  by  the  Sisters  of  the  Congregation,  she  as  “per¬ 
petual  pensioner,”  spent  with  them  peacefully  and  happily 
the  remainder  of  her  days.  The  loving  hands  of  those  who 
so  long  had  ministered  to  her  needs,  closed  her  eyes  at  the 
last.  The  date  of  her  death  is  as  yet  unknown  to  me.  She 
was  buried  near  her  beloved  Sisters  of  the  Congregation, 
under  the  chanel  of  St.  Anne  in  the  old  church  of  Notre 

JL 

Dame,  which  stood  in  the  middle  of  what  is  now  Notre  Dame 
St.,  opposite  the  present  cathedral.  There,  all  that  was  mortal 
of  the  New  England  captive,  Marie  Joseph  Esther  Sayer, 

'Two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 


88 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


rested,  until  about  1830,  when  all  who  had  been  buried  under 
the  old  church,  were  removed  to  the  Cemetery  of  the  Cote 
St.  Antoine. 

Again  exhumed  before  1866,  they  now  rest  in  the  present 
Cemetery  at  Cote  des  Neiges, — the  site  of  the  former  Ceme¬ 
tery  of  the  Cote  St.  Antoine  being  now  occupied  by  Domin¬ 
ion  Square  and  its  fine  surroundings. 

She  gave  to  the  convent  most  of  her  household  goods, 
among  them  elegant  candelabra  and  other  articles  of  silver. 

Some  of  her  bequests  escaped  the  successive  conflagrations 
from  which  the  Convent  has  suffered.  Among  other  things, 
a  chest  of  drawers,  arm  chairs,  silver  snuffers  and  tray,  and 
some  exquisite  embroidery. 

The  Cure,  who  has  been  kindly  interested  in  this  little 
sketch,  writes  me  as  follows : 

“Indeed  with  her  mother  and  sister  she  was  greatly  tried 
at  the  time  of  their  captivity,  but  it  was  the  way  God  judged 
proper  to  lead  her  to  a  religion,  which  they  thought  after¬ 
wards  to  be  the  only  one  able  to  lead  men  to  eternal  happi¬ 
ness,  and  for  them  to  a  suitable  establishment.” 


Fao  Similes  of  Afas  s  achuse  It's  Money  as  c  orvlcLitvecl  i*v 

T  dikes  Tables  of  Coins. 


DIFFICULTIES  AND  DANGERS  IN  THE  SET¬ 
TLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 

1670. 


“The  Independent  Church,”  says  a  recent  writer,  “prepared 
the  way  for  the  Independent  States,  and  an  Independent  Na¬ 
tion.”  The  most  superficial  reader  of  history,  in  this  pre¬ 
eminently  secular  generation,  cannot  ignore  the  fact  that 
“The  corner-stone  of  New  England  was  laid  in  the  cause  of 
religion,”  nor  can  he  fail  to  note  how  often  the  accidents  of 
man  were  the  providence  of  God  in  the  settlement  of  our 
country. 

When,  to  protect  themselves  against  the  lawlessness  of  a 
few  of  their  number  who  were  shuffled  into  their  company  at 
London,  our  forefathers  signed  the  famous  Compact  in  the 
little  cabin  of  their  storm-racked  vessel,  they  builded  better 
than  they  knew.  Magnificent  as  have  been  the  consequences 
of  that  simple  act,  to  establish  a  democracy  in  America  was 
not  the  purpose  whereunto  the  Mayflower  was  sent. 

“What  sought  they  thus  afar? 

They  sought  a  faith’s  pure  shrine.” 

Later,  it  was  the  religious  zeal  of  “that  worthy  man  of  God,” 
Mr.  John  White  of  Dorchester,  England,  and  his  fear  lest  the 


9o 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


English  fishermen  on  our  inhospitable  coast,  might  lack  the 
.spiritual  food  so  necessary  for  the  salvation  of  their  souls, 
that  dispatched  Roger  Conant  to  Cape  Ann,  sent  John  Endi- 
cott  to  Salem,  installed  John  Winthrop  as  governor,  with  the 
charter  of  Massachusetts  at  the  Bay,  and  settled  William 
Pynchon  at  Roxbury. 

Their  pious  care  to  make  plentiful  provision  of  godly  min¬ 
isters  for  their  plantation,  sent  over  Mr.  Skelton,  Mr.  Hig- 
ginson,  and  Mr.  Smith,  and  brought  Eunice  Williams’s  an¬ 
cestor,  John  Warham,  a  famous  Puritan  divine  of  Exeter,  to 
Dorchester.  Their  devotion  to  religion  and  their  willingness 
to  suffer  exile  for  freedom  to  worship  God  according  to  the 
dictates  of  their  own  consciences,  brought  Thomas  Hooker 
and  Samuel  Stone,  as  pastor  and  teacher,  to  Cambridge. 
This,  too,  led  John  Cotton,  when  driven  by  threats  of  the  in¬ 
famous  court  of  High  Commission,  from  “the  most  stately 
parish  church  in  England,”  St.  Botolph’s  in  Old  Boston,  to 
preach  the  gospel  “within  the  mud  walls,  and  under  the 
thatched  roof  of  the  meeting-house  in  a  rude  New  England 
hamlet,”  which,  in  honor  of  his  arrival,  took  thenceforth  the 
name  of  Boston. 

The  same  religious  fervor,  made  the  fathers  of  Massachu¬ 
setts  determine  that  the  rights  of  citizenship,  and  offices  of 
public  trust,  should  belong  “only  to  Christian  men,  ascer¬ 
tained  to  be  such  by  the  best  test  which  they  know  how  to 
apply,” — and  however  unwise,  impracticable  and  unjust  it 
would  seem,  in  our  day,  to  make  the  franchise  dependent 
upon  church  membership,  yet  the  bribery  and  corruption 
witnessed  in  our  elections,  and  the  moral  unfitness  of  many 
of  our  candidates,  make  us  wish  that  “not  birth,  nor  learning, 
nor  skill  in  war,  alone  might  confer  political  power,”  but  that 
to  these  we  might  add  some  test  of  personal  character,  of 
moral  worth  and  goodness. 

We  need  to  remember  amid  the  dissensions  that  are  agi- 


lcl/ii 


?y 


n 


(Oi 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


91 


fating  the  religious  world  of  to-day,  that  the  Puritanism  of 
the  fathers,  which  to  us  seems  the  extreme  of  conservatism, 
was  really  the  radicalism  of  their  time. 

It  is  a  curious  study  to  trace  the  struggle  between  the  old 
and  the  new,  that  began  at  the  beginning  and  must  endure 
to  the  end  of  time,  as  it  is  connected  with  the  settlement  of 
our  state,  and  through  that,  with  the  history  of  our  nation. 

However  they  may  have  desired  “to  transfer  themselves 
to  the  fertile  valley  of  the  Connecticut,  from  the  less  pro¬ 
ductive  soil  upon  which  they  had  sat  down,’’  and  whatever 
other  motives  they  may  have  alleged  for  their  migration,  it 
is  easy  to  see  that  the  same  desire  for  greater  civil  and  re¬ 
ligious  freedom,  that  planted  the  first  settlers  at  Plymouth 
Rock  and  Massachusetts  Bay,  led  to  the  removal  of  William 
Pynchon  and  his  Roxbury  neighbors  to  Springfield,  of  John 
Warham  and  his  Dorchester  flock  to  Windsor,  of  the  Water- 
town  church,  with  Henry  Smith  as  its  pastor,  to  Weathers- 
field,  and  of  Hooker  and  Stone,  with  their  congregations,  to 
Hartford. 

Still  later,  the  radicalism  of  the  majority  of  the  Hartford 
church  on  the  subject  of  baptism,  extending  to  the  church  at 
Weathersfield,  led  to  the  settlement  of  Hadley  by  a  small 
minority  of  the  more  conservative  brethren  of  both  parish¬ 
es,  under  the  leadership  of  Governor  Webster  of  Hartford  and 
Mr.  John  Russell  of  Weathersfield. 

Another  lesson  of  peculiar  significance  to  us,  at  the  present 
period  of  our  religious  history,  is  given  in  the  fact  that  amid 
all  their  differences,  our  forefathers  never  lost  sight  of  the 
common  aim  and  purpose  of  their  emigration,  namely,  “the 
advancement  of  the  kingdom  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
the  enjoyment  of  the  liberties  of  the  Gospel,  in  unity  with 
peace,’’  whereto  they  bear  noble  testimony  in  the  preamble 
to  the  articles  of  Confederation,  signed  by  the  four  colonies, 
in  1643. 


92 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


It  could  not  be  supposed  that  men  professing  “the  propa¬ 
gation  of  the  Gospel  to  be  above  all  their  aim  in  settling  this 
plantation,”  would  be  long  indifferent  to  the  spiritual  wel¬ 
fare  of  the  savages  around  them.  The  conversion  of  the  na¬ 
tives  was  early  an  object  of  their  solicitude,  but  the  obstacles 
were  such  as  might  have  appalled  the  most  enthusiastic  zealot; 
and  not  until  1644,  was  the  work  begun  in  earnest. 

John  Eliot,  destined  to  become  the  Apostle  to  the  Indians, 
on  quitting  the  University  at  Cambridge,  England,  was  as¬ 
sistant  to  Thomas  Hooker,  in  a  private  school.  Leaving  his 
native  country  for  the  same  motives  that  impelled  other 
Puritans  at  that  time,  and  arriving  in  1631,  at  Boston,  he 
there  for  a  season  supplied  the  pulpit  of  the  absent  pastor, 
and  later  was  appointed  teacher  of  the  newly  organized  church 
at  Roxbury.  The  missionary  spirit,  which  prompted  him  to 
undertake  the  conversion  of  the  Indians,  was  greatly  aided 
by  his  natural  fondness  for  philological  studies,  in  which  he 
is  said  to  have  excelled  at  college.  Employing  his  leisure 
hours  in  endeavoring  to  master  the  language  of  the  natives, 
at  length,  in  the  autumn  of  1644,  he  preached  in  a  wigwam 
on  Nonantum  hill,  his  first  sermon  in  the  Indian  tongue. 
Some  authority  seemed  to  be  given  soon  after  to  his  under¬ 
taking,  by  an  order  from  the  General  Court  to  the  County 
Courts,  “for  the  civilization  of  the  Indians  and  their  instruc¬ 
tion  in  the  worship  of  God.” 

The  passage  of  such  a  decree  was  an  easy  task.  What  be¬ 
nevolence  and  fortitude,  what  faith,  patience  and  courage 
were  requisite  to  its  execution,  those  who  have  read  the  life 
of  Eliot  know  full  well.  From  this  time  to  the  end  of  his 
long  life,  his  labors  for  the  Indians  were  unflagging.  Having 
the  good  sense  to  see  that  they  must  be  civilized  before  they 
could  be  christianized,  he  wished  to  collect  them  in  compact 
settlements  of  their  own.  “I  find  it  absolutely  necessary,” 
he  says,  “to  carry  on  civility  with  religion.”  To  quote  his 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


93 


own  words,  he  “looked  for  some  spot  somewhat  remote  from 
the  English,  where  the  Word  might  be  constantly  taught, 
and  government  constantly  exercised,  means  of  good  sub¬ 
sistence  provided,  encouragement  for  the  industrious,  means 
of  instruction  in  letters,  trades  and  labor.’’ 

About  the  year  1650,  he  found  a  suitable  site  at  Natick,  and 
the  records  of  this  period  attest  the  pertinacity  of  his  appli¬ 
cation  to  the  General  Court  for  the  same,  and  its  patient  en¬ 
deavors  to  satisfy  his  demands,  without  interfering  with  the 
rights  of  those  to  whom  these  adjacent  lands  had  already 
been  granted. 

The  inhabitants  of  Dedham  having  signified  their  willing¬ 
ness  to  further  the  plantation  at  Natick  by  a  tender  of  two 
thousand  acres  of  their  land  to  the  Indians,  “provided  they 
lay  down  all  claims  in  that  town  elsewhere,  and  set  no  traps  in 
enclosed  lands,”  the  Court  approving,  in  October,  1652,  em¬ 
powered  Capt.  Eleazar  Lusher  of  Dedham,  and  others,  to  lay 
out  meet  bounds  for  the  Indian  plantation  at  Natick. 

From  this  time,  for  several  years,  the  records  are  occupied 
with  the  settlement  of  Natick  bounds.  Petitions  from  Ded¬ 
ham  for  relief  from  “affronts  offered  them  by  the  Indians,” 
and  counter  petitions  from  Mr.  Eliot,  “in  behalf  of  the  poor 
natives,”  concerning  the  monopoly  by  the  English  of  the  best 
meadow  and  upland,  and  encroachments  upon  the  Indian 
grant,  show  that  the  task  of  adjustment  was  a  difficult  one. 
In  May,  1662,  the  Court, 

“Finding  that  the  legal  rights  of  Dedham  cannot  in  justice  be  de¬ 
nied,  yet  such  has  been  the  encouragement  of  the  Indians  in  the  im¬ 
provement  thereof,  the  which  added  to  their  native  right,  which  cannot 
in  strict  justice  be  utterly  extinct,  do  therefore  order  that  the  In¬ 
dians  be  not  dispossessed  of  such  lands  as  they  are  at  present  pos¬ 
sessed  of  there,  but  that  the  same,  with  convenient  accommodations 
for  wood  and  timber  and  highways  thereto,  be  set  out  and  bounded 
by  a  committee  appointed  for  that  purpose,  and  that  the  damages 


94 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


thereby  sustained  by  Dedham,  together  with  charges  sustained 
in  suits  about  the  same,  be  determined  by. the  said  committee,  such 
allowance  being  made  them  out  of  Natick  lands,  or  others  yet  lying 
in  common,  as  they  shall  judge  equal.” 

One  of  the  committee  appointed  “being  disabled  by  the  prov¬ 
idence  of  God,”  and  the  other  utterly  declining  the  work,  the 
Court  at  its  autumn  session, 

“Being  sensible  of  the  great  inconveniency  that  accrues  to  both 
English  and  Indians  by  the  neglect  of  an  issue  to  the  controversy, 
elects  others  in  their  stead  and  orders  that  the  work  be  issued  with¬ 
in  six  weeks  at  the  fartherest.” 

June  1 6,  1663 — “For  a  final  issue  of  the  case  between  Dedham  and 
Natick,  the  court  judgeth  it  meet  to  grant  Dedham  8000  acres  of 
land  in  any  convenient  place  or  places,  not  exceeding  two,  where  it 
can  be  found  free  from  former  grants,  provided  Dedham  accept 
of  this  offer.” 

At  a  general  meeting,  Jan.  1,  1664,  the  town,  as  we  learn  from 
the  Dedham  records, 

“Having  duly  considered  this  proposition,  their  conclusion  is  about 
the  8000  acres,  that  the  care  of  managing  the  same  so  as  the  town 
may  have  their  ends  answered,  be  left  to  the  Selectmen  now  to  be 
chosen,” 

among  whom  were  Ensign  Daniel  Fisher  and  Lieut.  Joshua 
Fisher. 

Sept.  21,  1664,  John  Fairbanks  having  informed  the  Select¬ 
men  that  Goodman  Prescott,  “an  auntient  planter  and  pub- 
lique  spirited  man  of  Lancaster,”  thinks  it  probable  that  a 
suitable  tract  of  land  is  to  be  found  at  some  distance  from 
there,  they  depute  Lieut.  Fisher  and  Fairbanks  to  repair  to 
Sudbury  and  Lancaster,  and  report  upon  their  return.  An 
item  here  occurring  of  “9s  allowed  Henry  Wright  for  his 
horse  for  the  journey  to  the  Chestnut  country,  judging  it  well 
worth  that,”  has  reference  to  this  expedition,  and  Nov.  6, 
1664,  the  committee  reported  that  the  tract  of  land  where- 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


95 


of  they  had  been  informed,  was  “already  entered  upon  by 
several  farms,  and  altogether  unable  to  supply  them.” 

It  is  precisely  at  this  point  that  the  history  of  Deerfield  be¬ 
gins.  I  follow  the  records  : 

“The  Selectmen  in  further  pursuance  of  this  case  concerning  the 
8000  acres  above  mentioned  having  heard  of  a  considerable  tract  of 
good  land  that  might  be  answerable  to  the  town’s  expectation,  about 

10  or  12  miles  from  Hadley, . think  it  meete  in  behalf  of  the 

towne  to  provide  that  the  8000  acres  be  chosen  and  laid  out  to  satis- 
fie  that  grant,  and  that  with  all  convenient  speed,  before  any  other 
grantee  enter  upon  it  and  prevent  us.” 

Eight  men  or  any  four  of  them,  “whereof  Lieft.  Joshua  Fish¬ 
er  is  to  be  one,”  were  appointed,  “empowered  and  entreated 

to  repayer  to  the  place  mentioned, . to  choose  and  lay 

out  the  Land  according  to  their  best  discretion,”  each  man  be¬ 
ing  promised  ‘Too  acres  of  land  in  full  satisfaction  for  thier 

paynes, . onely  to  Lieft.  Fisher  such  other  sattisfaction 

as  shall  be  judged  equal.”  Further  progress  in  the  work 
was  prevented  by  the  coming  on  of  winter,  during  which 
some  unwillingness  seems  to  have  been  shown  by  the  com¬ 
mittee,  to  undertake  the  business  on  the  terms  offered  by  the 
Selectmen. 

As  appears  from  the  record  of  March  20,  1665,  the  difficulty 
was  amicably  settled,  when 

“Vpon  further  consideration  of  effecting  the  layeing  out  the  8000 

Acres, . Lieft.  Fisher  declaring  his  disaceptance  of  w‘  was 

aboue  tendered  him, . and  his  peremptory  demaund  being  300 

acres,  it  is  consented  vnto  provided  he  allso  drawe  for  the  Towne  a 
true  and  sufficient  platt  of  that  tract  and  Edw  :  Richards,  Antho  : 
Fisher,  Junior,  and  Tymo  :  Dwight,  accept  of  the  payenff  formerly 
tendered,  vizh  150  achers  to  each  of  them.” 

If  Timothy  Dwight  be  unable  to  attend  to  the  business 
himself,  he  agrees  to  furnish  Sergt.  Richard  Ellis  with  a 
horse  for  the  journey.  A  report  of  this  committee  with 


96 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


reference  to  an  accompanying  plot,  certified  and  figured 
as  “layd  out  by  Joshua  Fisher,  May,  1665,”  proves  that  the 
work  was  accomplished  without  much  delay. 

The  principle  of  Squatter  Sovereignty  by  which  men  nat¬ 
urally  at  first  possess  themselves  of  lands  in  a  new  settlement, 
is  as  naturally  set  aside  by  the  first  attempts  at  corporate 
government.  The  land  was  granted  by  the  General  Court  in 
townships,  without  prescription  as  to  the  manner  of  its  ap¬ 
portionment  among  the  inhabitants,  and  though  persons  and 
property  seem  to  have  had  some  consideration  in  the  distri¬ 
bution,  no  uniform  rule  was  observed  in  the  different  towns. 

Dedham,  at  this  period,  was  occupied  by  two  classes  of 
inhabitants, — landed  proprietors,  and  landless  residents.  All 
the  lands  of  the  township,  at  first  held  as  common  property, 
had  been  divided  into  522  cow  commons,  a  name  based  upon 
the  number  of  cattle  then  running  on  the  common  pasture, 
and  by  a  somewhat  arbitrary  rule,  a  certain  number  of  these 
shares  assigned  to  each  proprietor,  with  the  understanding 
that  his  rights  in  all  future  grants  of  land  to  the  township 
of  Dedham  would  be  proportionate  to  his  proprietorship  there. 
In  the  actual  division  of  the  Pocumtuck  grant,  however,  there 
are  523  cow  commons,  one  more  than  in  the  Dedham  property, 
a  discrepancy  as  yet  inexplicable. 

After  the  allotment  of  the  750  acres  promised  to  Lieut. 
Fisher  and  his  three  associates,  for  their  assistance  in  laying 
out  the  grant,  the  remainder  was  to  be  divided  into  cow  com¬ 
mons.  The  surveyors  doubtless  selected  their  tract  on  their 
first  expedition,  and  their  choice  was  made  with  great  sagac¬ 
ity.  It  included  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  acres  of  the 
very  best  land  in  the  north  meadows,  situated  as  we  believe 
from  a  careful  comparison  of  allotments,  in  the  region  now 
known  as  Pogue’s  Hole,  the  Neck  and  White  Swamp. 

It  may  be  a  satisfaction  to  property  holders  there,  to 
note  the  advance  in  real  estate  since  Dec.  10,  1665,  when 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


97 


Timothy  Dwight,  on  condition  that  a  plantation  is  effectually 
settled  at  Pocumtuck,  agrees  to  resign  all  claim  to  his  share 
for  “$£ ;  2£  to  be  paid  in  money,  and  ■$£  in  corn  and  cat- 
tell,”  and  Lieut.  Fisher  makes  a  similar  offer  of  his  rights, 
for  “£4  in  cash  and  £6  in  corn  and  cattell,”  the  only  time, 
probably,  when  300  acres  of  good  land  in  Old  Deerfield  could 
have  been  bought  for  about  fifty  dollars. 

In  the  records,  the  surveyors’  lands  are  spoken  of  as 
“Farms,”  to  distinguish  them  from  the  cow  commons  of  the 
other  proprietors.  On  Jan.  22,  1666,  it  was  voted, 

“That  each  proprietor’s  land  shall  pay  annually  towards  the  main¬ 
tenance  of  an  Orthodox  Minister  there,  2s  for  each  cow  common, 
whether  the  owner  live  there  or  at  Dedham;  and  all  others  that  hold 
any  part  of  the  8000  in  proportion  upon  any  other  account  besides 
cow  commons,  shall  pay  proportionately  upon  such  lands  as  shall  be 
laid  out  for  the  accommpdation  of  teaching  church  officers  there.” 

The  last  clause  refers  to  the  Puritan  custom  of  employing 
both  a  Pastor  and  a  Teacher  for  the  same  church. 

Any  man  unwilling  or  unable  to  pay  his  tax  for  the  minis¬ 
try,  was  empowered  to  sell  his  rights,  at  a  price  to  be  fixed 
by  a  majority  of  the  proprietors,  and  in  case  no  buyer  could 
be  found,  the  inhabitants  of  Pocumtuck  were  to  take  his 
rights  at  that  price,  or  free  him  from  the  aforesaid  tax. 

The  bounds  of  the  grant  having  been  laid  out  in  May,  1665, 
the  next  thing  to  be  done  was  the  extinction  of  the  Indian 
title  by  a  nominal  purchase  of  their  lands.  A  nominal  pur¬ 
chase,  I  say,  because  remembering  how  all  the  fertile  river 
lands  from  Sufheld  to  Northfield,  were  purchased  from  the 
Indians  for  a  few  great  coats  and  some  hundred  fathoms  of 
wampum,  I  cannot  quite  agree  with  Dr.  Holland,  who  de¬ 
clares  that  “All  the  land  occupied  by  the  settlers  was  fairly 
purchased  of  the  natives.” 

Mr.  Judd,  in  alluding  to  the  fact  that  Penn’s  bargain  with 
the  Indians  has  been  rendered  famous  by  the  historian  and 


98 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES 


poet,  says  “It  would  be  difficult  to  tell  why  Penn’s  purchase 
is  more  worthy  of  renown  than  the  purchase  of  Indian  lands 
in  Hadley  by  John  Pynchon  twenty  years  before.”  With 
less  partiality  than  the  former  writer,  he  adds,  “both  bought 
as  cheaply  as  they  could.” 

Let  us  cast  no  imputation  on  the  general  justice  of  the 
policy  of  the  early  settlers  of  Massachusetts  towards  the  In¬ 
dians.  Still  it  is  noticeable  that  the  very  records  of  their  pur¬ 
chases  make  complacent  mention  of  the  “Indian  title  in  [not 
to]  the  land,”  and  we  must  admit  that  it  was  usually  a  bar¬ 
gain  in  which  might  made  right,  the  simple  wants  and 
characteristic  lack  of  foresight  of  the  red  man  being  no  match 
for  the  ambition  and  shrewdness  of  the  civilized  white.  Ma¬ 
jor  John  Pynchon  of  Springfield,  (Worshipful  John)  in  his 
double  capacity  of  magistrate  and  trader,  dealt  largely  with 
the  Connecticut  River  Indians  and  effected  nearly  every  im¬ 
portant  purchase  from  them.  The  Sachems  of  the  valley 
kept  a  running  account  at  Pynchon’s  shop,  buying  from  him 
wampum  and  other  small  merchandise  of  which  they  stood 
in  need,  and  pledging  their  lands  in  payment. 

Hein  turn  transferred  the  Indian  deeds  to  the  white  set¬ 
tlers,  receiving  from  them  money,  corn,  wheat  and  other 
standard  articles  of  trade.  The  following  items  from  Pyn¬ 
chon’s  account  book  is  a  small  part  of  the  debt  of  Umpacha- 
la,  the  Norwottuck  Sachem,  in  payment  of  which  he  gave 
Pynchon  a  deed  of  the  town  of  Hadley  : 

“1660,  July  10,  2  coats,  shag  and  wampum,  5^;  Red  shag  cotton, 
knife,  7s.  July  30  to  September  14,  wampufn  and  2  coats,  5^  10s; 
a  kettle,  5s;  for  your  being  drunk,  10s.” 

Thus  for  the  vice  of  drunkenness  which  the  untaught  Pagan 
had  learned  from  our  Christian  civilization,  we  forced  him 
to  forfeit  his  home,  and  yet  we  boast  of  the  fairness  of  our  deal¬ 
ings  with  him. 

Major  Pynchon,  acting  in  behalf  of  the  Dedham  proprie- 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


99 


tors,  obtained  from  the  Pocumtuck  Indians  four  deeds  of 
land.  Three  of  these  are  extant. 

The  first,  dated  February  24th,  1665,  is  signed  with  his 
mark  by  Chaque,  Sachem  of  Pocumtuck,  who  for  good  “and 
valuable  considerations,”  transfers  a  large  portion  of  the  ter¬ 
ritory  of  his  tribe,  to  John  Pynchon  for  Major  Eleazar  Lusher, 
Ensign  Daniel  Fisher,  and  other  Englishmen  of  Dedham, 
agreeing  to  defend  the  same  from  any  molestation  from  In¬ 
dians,  and  reserving  the  right 

“Of  fishing  in  the  waters  and  rivers,  and  free  liberty  to  hunt  deer 
and  other  wild  creatures,  and  to  gather  walnuts,  chestnuts  and  other 
nuts  and  things  on  the  commons.” 

The  second,  dated  June  16th,  1667,  is  from  Masseamet, 
owner  of  certain  lands  at  Pocumtuck,  who  in  conveying  them 
agreed  to  “save  them  harmless  from  all  manner  of  claims.” 

By  the  third,  dated  July  22d,  1667,  Ahimunquat,  alias  Me- 
squinnitchall  of  Pocumtuck,  and  his  brother,  devise  and  sell 
both  Weshatchowmesit  and  Tomholisick  “with  all  the  trees, 
waters,  profits  and  commoditys  whatsoever,”  to  the  same  par¬ 
ties  to  hold  and  enjoy,  and  that  forever.  The  prosecution 
of  this  business  was  the  chief  topic  of  interest  at  Dedham. 

“June  6th,  1667,  the  Selectmen  after  consideration  of  the  case 
respecting  Pocompticke  and  the  Information  brought  by  those  breth- 

eren  lately  upon  the  place, . doe  desire  and  depute  them . 

to  make  reporte  in  publike  the  next  Lecture  day  after  Lecture . 

Allso  that  the  Towne  be  made  acquainted  with  the  disbursmts  of  the 
Worpfu11  Cap1  Pinchion  in  purchasing  the  Indians  Right  at  Pocomp¬ 
ticke  . who  haue  declared  that  he  haue  allready  layed  out 

about  40^  and  is  yet  in  prosecution  of  compleating  that  worke,  and 
by  word  and  writeing  haue  exp’ssed  his  desire  to  be  reimbursed,  the 
payem*  he  desire  is  money,  wheate  and  porke  and  wee  would  desire 
the  Towne  to  remember  and  gratifie  his  paynes.” 

October  2d,  1667,  a  rate  was  laid  to  pay  Capt.  Pynchon  the 
sum  disbursed  for  Pocumtuck  land,  wherein  4s  was  assessed 


IOO 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


upon  each  cow  common,  reckoning-  14  acres  or  thereabouts 
to  each  common,  and  an  equal  assessment,  acre  for  acre  on 
the  “farms”  of  the  surveyors. 

The  list  of  proprietors  at  this  time  numbers  sixty  Dedham 
men. 

The  deeds,  meanwhile,  having  been  delivered  to  Eleazar 
Lusher,  by  whom  they  were  deposited  in  Deacon  Aldis’s 
box,— at  a  general  meeting  of  the  proprietors,  September 
29th,  1669,  96^,  1  os  were  ordered  raised  to  pay  Capt.  Pyn- 
chon,  (the  first  assessment  evidently  not  having  been  collect¬ 
ed),  by  an  assessment  of  3s  4d  on  each  cow  common,  the  750 
acres  constituting  the  farms  of  the  surveyors  being  rated  at 
54  commons,  showing  thus  an  estimate  of  about  14  acres  to  a 
common. 

This  list  contains  the  names  of  eighty-four  proprietors,  prov¬ 
ing  that  the  fever  of  speculation  in  Deerfield  land  was  spread¬ 
ing  in  Dedham.  Among  several  transfers  of  rights  recorded, 
is  the  purchase  of  Anthony  Fisher’s  150  acres  by  Gov.  Lev- 
erett,  who  sold  it  again  to  John  Pynchon  “for  £9  current  mon¬ 
ey  and  several  barrels  of  tar,”  in  the  manufacture  of  which 
Springfield  was  largely  engaged.  Permission  was  also  grant¬ 
ed  in  1668,  to  Lieut.  Fisher,  to  sell  a  part  of  his  rights  to  John 
Stebbins  of  Northampton,  ancestor  of  the  Stebbins  family  of 
Deerfield. 

On  May  10th,  1670,  a  committee  of  the  proprietors,  assem¬ 
bled  to  fix  a  time  for  drawing  lots  and  settling  proprieties  at 
Pocumtuck,  order  notice  to  be  given  of  a  meeting  of  the  pro¬ 
prietors  for  that  purpose,  at  the  meeting  house  in  Dedham 
at  seven  o’clock  in  the  morning  of  the  23d  instant. 

“The  proprietors  by  Grant  or  purchase,”  assembled  accord¬ 
ing  to  appointment  on  the  morning  of  May  23d,  1670.  At 
this  meeting 

“It  is  agreed  that  an  Artist  be  procured  vpon  as  moderate  tearmes 
as  may  be  that  may  laye  out  the  Lotts  at  Pawcompticke  to  each  pro- 
priator.” . 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


IOI 


Three  Hadley  men,  as  being  more  familiar  with  the  situa¬ 
tion  than  the  Dedham  committee,  were 

“desired  to  direct  the  artist  in  the  work  abovesaid,  and  empowered 

to  order  the  scituation  of  the  Towne  for  the  most  conveaniencie . 

the  whole  Tract,  and  the  quallities  of  each  sort  of  Land,  and  other 

accomadacions  considered . It  is  allso  agreed  that  no  man 

shall  laye  out  more  than  20  Cow  Commons  rights  together  in  one 

place.  Joh.  Pincheon  is  entreated  and  empowered . to  take 

his  time  to  visit  the  Committee  and  artist  and  to  giue  them  such 

advice . as  he  shall  Judge  most  Conduceable  to  the  good  of  the 

plantation . It  is  further  agreed  to  proceed  to  drawe  Lotts, 

and  prpare  accordingly  and  that  in  every  deuision  of  Lands  of  all 
sorts  (except  house  Lotts)  the  length  of  the  Lotts  shall  runne  east¬ 
erly  and  westerly,  and  the  begining  of  layeing  out  Lotts . shall 

allwayes  be  on  the  northerly  side  and  make  an  end  on  the  southerly 
side . ” 

The  meadow  lands  only,  were  allotted  in  this  drawing,  and 
a  cow  common  represented  three  acres  of  land.  The  list  of 
proprietors  includes  two  women,1  and  contains  in  all  thirty- 
four  names,  among  which  are  those  of  Samuel  Hinsdell  and 
Samson  Frary. 

During  the  summer  succeeding  this  allotment,  the  com¬ 
mittee  visited  the  grant,  and  laid  out  the  “town  plat,”  which 
they  divided  into  the  same  number  of  commons  and  lots  as 
the  meadows,  a  common  being  smaller,  as  the  area  set  apart 
for  their  homesteads  was,  of  course,  much  less  than  that  re¬ 
served  for  tillage. 

May  14th,  1671,  the  drawing  for  house  lots  took  place. 
On  the  1 6th,  the  committee  made  a  detailed  report  to  the 
town  of  Dedham,  of  all  their  proceedings,  and  a  most  inter¬ 
esting  document  it  is.  It  shows  us  the  lots  as  they  front 
east  and  west  on  the  street,  the  meadow  roads  at  the  north 
and  south,  and  a  highway  from  the  middle  of  the  street, 

'Mary  Haward. 

Mrs.  Buncker. 


102 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


east  and  west  to  the  mountain  and  river,  nearly  as  we  see 
them  to-day.  The  lots  were  numbered  in  regular  order,  No.  i 
being  at  the  north  end  on  the  west  side;  but  as  the  area  of 
each  man’s  house  lot  was  proportioned  to  the  number  of  cow 
commons  of  which  he  was  proprietor,  they  varied  in  extent 
from  one  acre  nine  rods,  to  seven  acres  ten  rods,  and  cannot  be 
identified.  Various  circumstances  lead  to  the  conclusion, 
that  lot  No.  13,  drawn  by  John  Stebbins,  was  that  now  owned 
by  Samuel  Wells. 

The  first  and  second  divisions  of  the  meadows  were  defined 
as  they  still  appear,  though  we  no  longer  recognize  a  curious 
distinction,  borrowed  doubtless  from  their  salt  marshes 
around  Dedham,  which  they  made  between  the  lower  lands 
on  the  river,  called  by  them  “the  meadows,”  and  “the  more 
higher  sort  of  lands,”  called  “Intervale  or  plow  lands.”  The 
report  also  furnishes  the  clearest  evidence,  that  the  country 
surrounding  the  meadows,  (the  east  and  west  mountains,  from 
Long  Hill  south,  and  from  Cheapside  hills  north),  was  densely 
wooded,  which  is  contrary  to  tradition. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  Deerfield  was  settled  by  a 
colony  from  Dedham,  as  Windsor  had  been  from  Dorchester. 
The  thirty-four  names  appearing  on  the  list  of  original  pro¬ 
prietors  of  Pocumtuck,  do  not  represent  actual  settlers. 

Robert  Hinsdell  and  his  son  Samuel,  Samson  Frary,  John 
Farrington  and  Samuel  Daniels,  are  the  only  Dedham  men 
appearing  among  the  thirty-four  original  proprietors  of  Po¬ 
cumtuck,  who  ever  became  actual  settlers  in  Deerfield.  John 
Stebbins,  a  Northampton  man  also  on  the  list,  settled  here. 
The  other  Dedham  proprietors  sold  out  their  rights. 

Robert  Hinsdell,  his  son  Samuel,  and  Samson  Frary, 
were  living  in  Hatfield  just  previous  to  the  allotment  of  lands 
at  Pocumtuck,  May  23d,  1670,  and  very  soon  after  that  date, 
the  two  latter  took  up  their  abode  in  Deerfield.  The  report 
to  which  I  have  alluded,  fixes  these  two  men  as  the  first  set- 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


103 


tiers  of  Deerfield.  In  it,  the  street  is  described  as  extending 
“from  Eagle  Brook  on  the  south  to  the  banke  or  falling  ridge 
of  land  at  Samson  Frary’s  cellar  on  the  north;”  and  permis¬ 
sion  is  given  to  Samuel  Hinsdell  “to  enjoy  a  percell  of  land 
on  which  at  present  he  is  resident,  considering  his  expense 
on  the  same.” 

The  third  settler,  Godfrey  Nims,  came  from  Northampton 
to  Deerfield  in  1670,  living  there  “in  a  sort  of  a  house  where 
he  had  dug  a  hole  or  cellar  in  the  side  hill,”  south  of  Colonel 
Wilson’s.  At  the  allotment  of  the  homesteads  in  1671,  he 
built  a  house,  on  what  lot  is  not  known. 

In  1672,  the  town  of  Hatfield,  complaining  that  their  north 
boundary  was  obstructed  by  the  Pocumtuck  line,  it  was  ac¬ 
cordingly  established  where  it  now  is. 

The  same  year  Samuel  Hinsdell  petitioned  the  town  of 
Dedham,  to  appoint  a  committee  of  suitable  persons  to  regu¬ 
late  the  affairs  of  the  new  settlement.  No  heed  being  paid 
to  this  request,  the  petitioners  renewed  it  the  next  year,  urg¬ 
ing  their  distress  by  reason  of  their  remoteness  from  other 
plantations.  Either  directly  or  indirectly,  through  Dedham, 
their  prayer  was  heard  by  the  General  Court,  which  in  1673, 

“In  ansr  to  the  peticon  of . ,  Samuel  Hinsdell,  Samson  Frary 

&c,  the  Court . allow  the  petitioners  the  liberty  of  a  Township 

and  doe  therefore  grant  them  such  an  addition . to  the  8000 

acres  formerly  granted . as  that  the  whole  be . seven 

miles  square,  provided  that  an  able  &  orthodox  minister  wthin  three 

yeares  be  settled, . and  doe  appointt . Lefh  Wm  Aliys, 

Thos  Meakins,  Sen  &  Sergent  Isaack  Graues,  wth  Lef1  Samuel  Smith, 

Mr.  Peeter  Tylton,  &  Samuel  Hinsdell . or  any  fower  of  them, 

to  admit  inhabitants,  grant  lands,  &  order  all  their  prudentiall  af¬ 
faires  till  they  shall  be  in  a  capacity,  by  meet  persons  from  among 
themselues,  to  manage  their  owne  affaires.”1 

During  the  two  succeeding  years,  this  committee  was  not 
’Mass.  Records,  IV.  Part  II.  558. 


104 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


idle.  There  were  claims  to  be  satisfied,  and  disputes  con¬ 
cerning  land  titles  to  be  adjusted.  Among  other  grants 
was  one  of  “20  Akars  of  land  and  Allsoe  a  hoame  lott, 
to  Richard  Weler  and  his  heirs  forever: — of  a  hoame  lott, 
and  Allsoe  a  twelve  common  Lott  of  36  Akars  to  Sergeant 
Plimpton  and  his  heirs  forever  : — and  to  Zebediah  Williams 
a  house  lott  of  4  Akars  :  ”  on  condition  of  their  residing  there¬ 
on  for  the  space  of  four  years  from  their  first  occupation. 
To  Mr.  Samuel  Mather,  the  Dedham  church  lot  was  awarded, 
“and  an  8  common  lotte  more  in  the  most  convenient  place — 
48  Akars  in  all,”  on  the  same  condition. 

In  1673,  at  the  early  age  of  twenty-two,  he  began  his  labors 
as  first  minister  of  Deerfield.  He  had  been  graduated  two 
years  before  at  Harvard,  and  was  a  nephew  of  the  distin¬ 
guished  Increase  Mather,  and  cousin  to  the  more  learned  Cot¬ 
ton  Mather. 

In  the  fall  of  1674,  Moses  Crafts,  “was  licensed  to  keep  an 
Ordinary  at  Pocumtuck,” — the  word  tavern  or  ale-house  was 
offensive  to  our  Puritan  fathers, — “and  to  sell  wines  and  strong 
liquors  for  one  year,  provided  he  keep  good  order  in  his 
house.” 

Inhabitants  came  in  gradually,  men  began  to  “stub  up” 
their  home  lots,  and  the  infant  town,  now  known  by  the  name 
of  Deerfield  from  the  number  of  those  animals  in  its  wood¬ 
lands,  seemed  in  a  fair  way  to  a  prosperous  growth. 

The  savages  still  hunted,  fished,  and  fowled,  in  the  woods 
and  waters  of  Pocumtuck,  maintaining  entire  friendliness  to¬ 
wards  the  settlers.  Often  Goodwife  Stockwell,  cumbered 
with  much  care  about  the  minister’s  dinner,  would  be  startled 
at  her  work,  by  the  dusky  shadow  of  an  old  squaw  gliding  in 
at  her  doorway  to  bring  her  a  mat  or  a  basket,  expecting  a 
few  beans  or  a  trifle  in  return  ;  or  the  Indian  hunter  strode 
through  the  little  village  with  a  haunch  of  venison  on  his 
shoulder,  to  barter  with  Moses  Crafts  for  tobacco  or  powder  ; 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


105 


or  his  young  wife,  with  her  bright-eyed  pappoose  at  her  back, 
peered  wonderingly  in  at  the  door  of  the  little  log  meeting¬ 
house,  while  the  young  divine  poured  forth  his  soul  in  pray¬ 
er;  and  listened  with  pleased  attention  as  the  Psalms,  dea¬ 
coned  out  by  old  Robert  Hinsdale,  were  sung  to  the  fine  old 
tunes  of  York  or  Windsor. 

So,  side  by  side,  in  peace,  stood  the  wigwam  of  the  savage 
and  the  cabin  of  the  settler,  in  this  valley,  till  the  torch 
kindled  at  Swanzey  by  that  “prime  incendiary,  Philip,”  as 
the  historians  of  the  time  call  him,  set  the  whole  country  in 
flames.  Driven  from  his  throne  at  Mount  Hope,  the  self- 
styled  king,  with  a  few  followers,  fled  for  aid  and  comfort  to 
the  country  of  the  Nipmucks,  his  subjects  or  allies. 

A  quaint  writer  says,  with  much  gravity,  that  “about  now, 
Philip  began  to  need  money,  and  having  a  coat  made  all  of 
wampum,  cut  it  in  pieces  and  distributed  it  among  the  Nip- 
muck  sachems  whereupon  Drake  remarks,  that  the  coat 
must  have  been  bigger  than  Doctor  Johnson’s,  mentioned  by 
Boswell,  the  side  pockets  of  which,  were  each  large  enough 
to  contain  a  volume  of  his  folio  dictionary.  Doubtless  Phil¬ 
ip’s  wampum  and  his  wrongs,  were  freely  used  as  incentives 
to  the  war,  but  at  this  period  the  quarrel  was  not  one  of 
individuals  or  of  tribes.  It  was  a  struggle  of  races  for  the 
possession  of  a  continent ;  or  rather,  it  was  a  war  of  the  in¬ 
carnated  principles  of  barbarism  resisting  the  encroachments 
of  civilization,  the  last  rally  of  Paganism  against  Christian¬ 
ity.  Philip  or  no  Philip,  sooner  or  later,  the  contest  was  in¬ 
evitable.  In  the  Connecticut  valley,  the  carnival  of  blood 
opened  with  the  Sugar  Loaf  fight,  in  the  autumn  of  1675. 
The  defection  of  the  Pocumtuck  Indians,  with  later  events 
sadly  familiar  to  all,  followed  in  quick  succession.  The 
bloodthirsty  savage  lurking  in  the  forest,  sped  his  bullet 
with  unerring  aim  to  the  heart  of  the  settler,  as  he  plied  his 
axe  for  his  winter’s  fire ;  or  creeping  stealthily  to  the  cabin 


io6 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


whose  occupants  were  wont  to  greet  him  with  kindness,  he 
tore  the  child  from  its  mother's  arms  as  she  lulled  it  to  rest, 
and  with  one  blow  of  his  tomahawk,  silenced  its  cries  forever. 
“A  distressing  sense  of  instant  danger,”  pervaded  every 
breast.  The  churches  everywhere  were  before  the  Lord  with 
humiliation  and  prayer,  and  pious  preachers  admonished  their 
flocks,  that  their  sufferings  were  directly  chargeable  to  their 
sins.  From  the  very  midst  of  the  alarm,  Parson  Stoddard 
writing  to  Increase  Mather,  at  Boston,  urges  the  need  of  a 
reformation.  “Many  sins,”  he  says,  “are  grown  so  in  fash¬ 
ion,  that  it  is  a  question  whether  they  be  sins,”  and  begs  him 
to  call  the  Governor’s  attention  especially  to  “that  intolerable 
pride  in  clothes  and  hair,  and  the  toleration  of  so  many  tav¬ 
erns,  especially  in  Boston,  and  suffering  home  dwellers  to 
be  tippling  therein.”  “It  would  be  a  dreadful  token  of  the 
displeasure  of  God,”  he  adds,  “if  these  afflictions  pass  away 
without  much  spiritual  advantage.”  Mr.  Mather,  jotting 
down  hastily  for  the  printer,  the  intelligence  that  comes 
post  from  Hadley,  moralizes  thus:  “It  is  as  if  the  Lord 
should  say  He  hath  a  controversy  with  every  plantation,  and 
therefore  all  had  need  to  repent  and  reform  their  ways.” 
“This  sore  contending  of  God  with  us  for  our  sins,”  writes 
John  Pynchon  to  his  absent  son,  “unthankfulness  for  former 
mercies  and  unfaithfulness  under  our  precious  enjoyments, 
hath  evidently  demonstrated  that  He  is  very  angry  with  this 
country,  and  hath  given  the  heathen  a  large  commission  to 
destroy.”  And  Minister  Hubbard,  from  his  Ipswich  study, 
where  rumors  come  flying  in  of  the  untimely  cutting  off  of 
the  flower  of  Essex  by  Indian  hatchet,  groans  out,  “God  grant 
that  by  the  fire  of  all  these  judgments,  we  may  be  purged 
from  our  dross  and  become  a  more  refined  people,  as  vessels 
fitted  for  our  Master’s  use.” 

The  inhabitants  of  Deerfield,  warned  by  repeated  attacks, 
had  been  driven  from  their  homes  and  were  huddled  togeth- 


r*‘  "J~-  . 


TSZ.ES  OF 

Montreal 

aT/// C//T/.1  /■  *<"  S///1 

Uv  the  Ereneli  Eup*iiiee; 


la  Gheftay* 


Terre  JroiHte 


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. Crft/l  <T5  tfSi  &/ 

^  j',rSu/pu’*y 


incoi% 


S Rose 


IFpiarjtJcGis 

Tfikd/ftt/// 


Boucheryille 


uZ/i/iiffis" , 


S'\l»cent 


l&Rxitenj 


LI  Auric 


^Wtjadjim 


-■'Hit. 


reattguay 


S»3^iu'iiuvm» 


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Tarefiries 


wiwirt  ^ 

»)ik  \  C5»:-- 


>  K 


r— f'.''-rs 


r*  .9  « 

^  o  o 


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"  m^'«8  8rLMKert 

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/A  /  TLT  TEXT 


XT 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


107 


er  in  two  or  three  houses,  poorly  protected  by  palisades,  and 
defended  by  a  handful  of  soldiers.  To  the  men,  who  with 
gun  and  sickle  in  hand,  went  out  to  harvest  the  fruits  of  their 
summer’s  labor,  the  smoke  from  some  distant  chimney  was  a 
terror,  lest  they  should  return  to  find  the  remnant  of  their 
little  settlement  in  ashes.  While  as  straggling  bands  of  In¬ 
dians  on  their  murderous  errand  passed  near  the  forts,  the 
women  watched  and  waited  within,  in  an  agony  of  fear,  lest 
some  beloved  one  might  not  return  at  nightfall.  The  noon¬ 
day  was  thick  with  horrors,  and  a  thousand  phantoms  of 
dread,  haunted  the  darkness  and  silence  of  midnight.  The 
wind  shrieked  and  groaned  through  the  forest,  as  if  with  pre¬ 
monition  of  impending  disaster.  To  their  frightened  fancy, 
the  patter  of  the  autumnal  rain,  was  the  tramp  of  the  ap¬ 
proaching  foe,  and  the  rustle  of  the  leaves,  as  they  sped  be¬ 
fore  the  September  gale,  the  final  rush  of  their  savage  assail¬ 
ants.  Compelled  at  last  to  seek  security  and  shelter  for  their 
families  in  the  better  protected  settlements,  the  men  of  Deer¬ 
field  reluctantly  prepared  to  desert  the  homesteads  they  had 
won  with  much  toil  from  the  wilderness. 

The  last  bag  of  wheat  was  at  length  filled,  the  golden  corn 
lay  heaped  on  the  great  ox-carts,  the  feather  beds  and  other 
treasures  of  thrifty  housewifery  carefully  disposed  atop,  and 
the  march  for  Hadley  began.  The  feeling  with  which  they 
saw  the  day  breaking  over  the  mountain,  as  they  wended 
their  way  through  the  meadows  on  that  ever  memorable 
morning,  the  18th  of  September,  1675,  was,  no  doubt,  one 
of  mingled  relief  that  the  long  suspense  was  ended,  and  of 
resolute  confidence  that  they  should  return  in  the  spring,  to 
occupy  the  fields  to  which  they  now  bade  a  regretful  fare¬ 
well.  No  foreshadowing  of  their  awful  fate,  seems  to  have 
rested  on  their  hearts.  Joyfully  their  households  awaited 
them  at  Hadley,  joy  turned  all  too  soon  to  bitter  sorrow, 
when  the  few  that  escaped  told  there,  how  the  little  stream, 


io8 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


known  before  as  Muddy  Brook,  had  been  baptized  anew  and 
consecrated  forever,  with  the  blood  of  eighteen  of  the  sturdy 
yeomanry  of  Pocumtuck,  and  many  a  valiant  soldier  besides. 
Goodwife  Hinsdale  wept  for  her  husband  and  three  stalwart 
sons  slain  in  the  fight,  and  remembered  with  unavailing 
penitence,  how  the  year  before  she  had  flouted  his  authority. 
Upon  the  ear  of  William  Smead,  mourning  for  his  boy  of 
fifteen,  Mr.  Mather’s  Latin  “ Diilce  et  decorum  est,  pro  patria 
mori ,”  fell  unheeded;  and  vainly  did  brave  Sergeant  Plymp- 
ton  strive  to  hush  the  wailing  of  his  old  wife  Jane,  for  Jona¬ 
than,  the  staff  of  their  declining  years,  now  lost  forever. 

After  the  massacre  at  Muddy  Brook,  the  garrison  was  with¬ 
drawn  from  Deerfield,  and  the  enemy  soon  laid  in  ashes  all 
that  remained  of  that  hopeful  plantation.  Some  brave  spirits, 
however,  still  clung  to  the  hope  of  resettlement.  These,  exas¬ 
perated  by  the  news,  in  the  early  summer  of  1676,  that  the 
Indians,  not  only  had  their  rendezvous  at  the  Great  Falls, 
where  they  were  laying  in  large  stores  of  fish  for  their  next 
campaign,  but  were  actually  planting  corn  on  the  rich  inter¬ 
vales  of  Deerfield,  gladly  volunteered,  under  the  heroic  Tur¬ 
ner,  to  dislodge  them.  By  his  defeat  of  the  Indians  at  the 
Swamscott  Falls,1  Philip’s  war,  so  called,  was  virtually  ended. 
A  few  months  later,  the  pallid  hands  of  that  once  haughty 
chieftain  were  shown  as  a  spectacle  in  the  streets  of  Boston. 
His  ghastly  head  set  up  on  a  pole  in  Plymouth,  afforded 
the  occasion  for  a  public  thanksgiving,  and  the  body  of 
Weetamoo,2  his  constant  ally,  more  implacable  in  her  resent¬ 
ment  than  even  he  had  been,  lay  stranded  by  the  ebbing 
tide,  the  once  beauteous  form  now  sodden  and  repulsive,  the 
long  hair,  which  the  proud  dame  was  wont  to  dress  so  care¬ 
fully,  all  knotted  with  sea-tangle,  the  features  once  so  gaily 

^ver  since  known  as  Turner’s  Falls. 

!Squaw  Sachem  of  Pocasset  married  first  the  brother  of  Philip. 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


IO9 


adorned,  all  begrimed  with  the  ooze  and  slime  of  Taunton 
River. 

The  dispersion  of  their  foes  made  the  surviving  settlers  of 
Deerfield  anxious  to  return  there.  The  prospect  of  passing 
another  winter  with  their  families  in  the  overcrowded  dwell¬ 
ings  of  Hadley  and  Hatfield,  was  not  agreeable  to  them,  and 
they  feared  lest  a  union  of  the  settlements  might  be  effected, 
which  would  deprive  them  forever  of  their  Pocumtuck  heri¬ 
tage.  Though  the  presence  of  prowling  bands  of  Indians  in 
the  valley,  made  any  attempt  at  resettlement  hazardous, 
Quentin  Stockwell  would  not  be  dissuaded  from  his  purpose. 
Of  Stockwell’s  previous  history,  but  little  is  known  except 
that  he  was  from  Dedham.  There  his  name  appears  on  vari¬ 
ous  tax  lists,  from  1663  to  1672,  when  he  removed  with  his  wife 
to  Hatfield,  and  thence  the  next  year  to  Deerfield,  where  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Mather  found  a  quiet  home  with  them.  That  he 
was  a  man  of  energy  and  courage,  appears  from  his  being 
the  only  Deerfield  man,  who,  in  the  autumn  of  1676,  dared 
begin  to  rebuild  his  ruined  home.  Driven  from  his  work  by 
the  Indians,  who  burned  his  half  finished  house,  he  fled  again, 
most  probably  to  Hatfield,  where,  with  other  Deerfield  peo¬ 
ple,  he  spent  the  winter.  He  was,  however,  far  from  con¬ 
tent.  The  birth  of  his  child  made  him  doubly  anxious  to 
shelter  himself  under  his  own  roof-tree,  and  the  next  sum¬ 
mer  he  succeeded  in  persuading  old  John  Plympton,  Benoni 
Stebbins,  and  one  or  two  others,  to  return  with  him  to  Deer¬ 
field,  where  the  former  had  already  built  himself  a  house, 
eighteen  feet  long. 

It  was  the  morning  of  the  19th  of  September,  1677.  A 
year  had  passed  since  the  close  of  the  war,  and  the  people 
of  this  valley,  relieved  of  their  apprehensions,  were  beginning 
to  resume  their  usual  occupations,  when  the  shrill  war-whoop 
rang  through  the  frosty  air,  and  a  party  of  Indians,  descend¬ 
ing  with  fire  and  slaughter  upon  Hatfield,  ran  thence  with 


I  10 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


seventeen  captives,  mostly  women  and  children,  towards 
Deerfield. 

It  was  near  sunset  of  one  of  those  tranquil,  New  England 
autumn  days,  we  know  so  well.  Naught  of  melancholy  was  in 
the  song  piped  by  a  belated  August  cricket,  and  the  striped 
snake  crawled  from  his  hole  to  bask  in  the  .sunshine,  as  if  he 
half  believed  summer  had  come  again.  The  witch-hazel 
threw  into  the  lap  of  October  a  wealth  of  blossoms,  which 
June  could  never  extort  from  her.  A  crown  of  gold, 
gemmed  with  opal  and  amethyst,  rested  on  the  brow  of  the 
western  hills;  the  swamps  were  ablaze  with  the  flame-colored 
sumachs.  The  mountain,  already  in  shadow,  seemed  like 
some  massive  temple,  where  in  stoles  of  scarlet  and  purple 
and  gold,  stood  maple  and  oak  and  chestnut,  like  cardinal, 
bishop  and  priest,  to  offer  a  sacrament  of  peace.  No  sound 
in  the  woodlands,  save  now  and  then  as  a  leaf  rustled  down 
softly  and  was  silent.  The  squirrels  as  they  frolicked 
among  the  branches,  ceased  their  chatter,  startled  by  the 
echo  of  Quentin  Stockwell’s  hammer,  as  it  was  borne  up  from 
the  valley.  A  light  heart  was  in  his  bosom,  for  he  thought 
how  snugly  his  little  family  would  be  housed  before  winter 
set  in,  and  faster  fell  the  strokes  as  the  sun  declined.  Near 
by,  sat  little  Samuel  Russell,  watching  with  delight  the  great 
chips  as  they  fell  from  under  John  Root’s  axe,  when  suddenly 
“with  great  shouting  and  shooting,”  the  Indians  came  upon 
them.  Dropping  their  tools,  and  seizing  their  guns,  the  men 
fled  towards  the  swamp,  where  Root  was  instantly  shot,  and 
Stockwell  after  brave  resistance,  was  at  last  overpowered 
and  compelled  to  surrender  or  die. 

“I  was  now  by  my  own  House,”  says  Quentin,  “which  the  Indians 
burnt  the  last  year  and  I  was  about  to  build  up  again,  and  there  I 
had  some  hopes  to  escape  from  them.  There  was  a  Horse  just  by 
which  they  bid  me  take.  I  did  so,  but  made  no  attempt  to  escape 
thereby  because  the  enemy  was  near,  and  the  beast  dull  and  slow, 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


I  I  I 


and  I  in  hopes  they  would  send  me  to  take  my  own  Horses, 
which  they  did,  but  they  were  so  frighted  that  I  could  not  come 
near  to  them,  and  so  fell  still  into  the  Enemies  hands,  who  now  took 
me,  and  bound  me,  and  led  me  away,  and  soon  was  I  brought  into 
the  company  of  other  Captives,  that  were  that  day  brought  away  from 
Hatfield,  which  were  about  a  mile  off;  and  here  methought  was 
matter  of  joy  and  sorrrow  both,  to  see  the  Company  ;  some  Com¬ 
pany  in  this  condition  being  some  refreshing,  though  little  help 
any-ways. 

Then  were  we  pinioned  and  led  away  in  the  night  over  the  moun¬ 
tains,  in  dark  and  hideous  wayes,  about  four  miles  further,  before 
we  took  up  our  place  for  rest,  which  was  in  a  dismal  piece  of  Wood, 
on  the  east  side  of  the  mountain. 

We  were  kept  bound  all  that  night.  The  Indians  kept  waking, 
and  we  had  little  mind  to  sleep  in  this  night’s  travel. 

The  Indians  dispersed,  and  as  they  went  made  strange  noises  as 
of  Wolves  and  Owls  and  other  Wilds  Beasts,  to  the  end  that  they 
might  not  lose  one  another,  and  if  followed  they  might  not  be  dis¬ 
covered  by  the  English. 

About  the  break  of  Day  we  Marched  again  and  got  over  the 
great  river  at  Pecumptuck  River  mouth,  and  there  rested  about  two 
hours.  There  the  Indians  marked  out  upon  Trees  the  number  of 
their  Captives  and  Slain  as  their  manner  is.  Now  was  I  again  in 
great  danger  ;  A  quarrel  arose  about  me,  whose  Captive  I  was,  for 
three  took  me.  I  thought  I  must  be  killed  to  end  the  controversie, 
so  when  they  put  it  to  me  whose  I  was,  I  said  three  Indians  took 
me;  so  they  agreed  to  have  all  a  share  in  me.  I  had  now  three 
Masters,  and  he  was  my  chief  master  who  laid  hands  on  me  first, 
and  thus  was  I  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  very  worst  of  all  the 
Company;  as  Ashpelon  the  Indian  captain  told  me;  which  captain 
was  all  along  very  kind  to  me,  and  a  great  comfort  to  the  English. 
In  this  place  they  gave  us  some  Victuals  which  they  had  brought 
from  the  English.  This  morning  also  they  sent  ten  Men  forth  to 
Town  to  bring  away  what  they  could  find,  some  Provision,  some 
Corn  out  of  the  Meadow  they  brought  to  us  upon  Horses  which  they 


I  12 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


had  there  taken.  From  hence  we  went  up  about  the  Falls,  where  we 
crossed  that  River  again,  and  whilst  I  was  going,  I  fell  right  down 
lame  of  my  old  Wounds  that  I  had  in  the  War,  and  whilst  I  was 
thinking  I  should  therefore  be  killed  by  the  Indians,  and  what 
Death  I  should  die,  my  pain  was  suddenly  gone  and  I  was  much  en¬ 
couraged  again.” 

As  they  recrossed  the  river  at  Peskeompskut  Falls,  the  Hat¬ 
field  captives  remembered  with  satisfaction,  how  Benjamin 
Waite  had  piloted  brave  Turner  to  his  great  victory  at  this 
very  spot;  and  a  gleam  of  hope  cheered  their  hearts  at  the 
thought,  that  he  would  not  be  less  active  in  the  pursuit  of  the 
foe,  who  now  bore  his  helpless  wife  and  children  into  cruel 
captivity.  Stockwell  continues, 

“We  had  about  eleven  horses  in  that  Company,  which  the  Indians 
used,  to  carry  Burthens,  and  to  carry  Women.  It  was  afternoon 
when  we  now  crossed  that  river.  We  travelled  up  it  till  night,  and 
then  took  up  our  Lodging  in  a  dismal  place,  and  were  staked  down  and 
spread  out  on  our  backs;  and  so  we  lay  all  night,  yea  so  we  laid 
many  nights.  They  told  me  their  Law  was,  that  we  should  lie  so 
nine  nights,  and  by  that  time,  it  was  thought  we  should  be  out  of 
our  knowledge.  The  manner  of  staking  down  was  thus  :  our  Arms 
and  Legs  stretched  out  were  staked  fast  down,  and  a  Cord  about 
our  necks,  so  that  we  could  stir  no  wayes.  The  first  night  of  stak¬ 
ing  down,  being  much  tired,  I  slept  as  comfortable  as  ever.  The 
next  day  we  went  up  the  river,  and  crossed  it  and  at  night  lay  in 
Squakheag  meadows,  and  while  we  lay  in  those  meadows,  the  In¬ 
dians  went  a-hunting,  and  the  English  army  came  out  after  us.” 

Dividing  into  many  companies  to  elude  pursuit,  they  again 
crossed  the  river.  About  thirty  miles  above  Northfield  they 
re-crossed  it  to  the  west,  and  being  quite  out  of  fear  of  the 
English,  lay  there  encamped  about  three  weeks.  On  this 
last  march  Stockwell’s  three  masters  went  off  to  hunt,  leav¬ 
ing  him  with  only  one  Indian,  who  fell  sick,  so  that  as  he  says, 

“I  was  fain  to  carry  his  Gun  and  Hatchet,  and  had  opportunity  and 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


1 1 3 


had  thought  to  have  dispatched  him,  and  run  away,  but  did  not,  for 
that  the  English  Captives  had  promised  the  contrary  to  one  another, 
because  if  one  should  run  away,  that  would  provoke  the  Indians,  and 
indanger  the  rest  that  could  not  run  away.” 

Life  was  dear  to  him,  escape  was  easy,  the  thought  of  his 
child  sorely  tempted  him  to  try  it,  but  he  remembered  that 
if  one  should  run  away  it  would  endanger  the  rest,  and  re¬ 
sisted.  No  knightlier  deed  was  ever  done.  Not  the  dying 
Sidney  putting  aside  the  proffered  cup  of  water  from  his  fe¬ 
vered  lips,  more  deserves  our  reverence,  than  Quentin  Stock- 
well  refusing  liberty,  and  life  for  aught  he  knew,  lest  his 
gain  might  prove  another’s  loss.  While  encamped  here, 
Stockwell  says, 

“they  had  a  great  Dance,  (as  they  call  it),  concluded  to  burn  three 
of  us  and  had  got  Bark  to  do  it  with,  and  as  I  understood  afterwards, 
I  was  one  that  was  to  be  burnt,  Sergeant  Plimpton  another,  and 
Benjamin  Wait  his  wife  the  third:  though  I  knew  not  which  was  to 
be  burnt,  yet  I  perceived  some  were  designed  thereunto,  so  much  I 
understood  of  their  language:  that  night  I  could  not  sleep  for  fear 
of  next  dayes  work,  the  Indians  being  weary  with  that  Dance,  laid 
down  to  sleep,  and  slept  soundly.  The  English  were  all  loose,  then 
I  went  out  and  brought  in  Wood,  and  mended  the  fire,  and  made  a 
noise  on  purpose,  but  none  awaked,  I  thought  if  any  of  the  English 
would  wake,  we  might  kill  them  all  sleeping,  I  removed  out  of  the 
way  all  the  Guns  and  Hatchets;  but  my  heart  failing  me,  I  put  all 
things  where  they  were  again.  The  next  day  when  we  were  to  be 
burnt,  our  Master  and  some  others  spake  for  us,  and  the  Evil  was 
prevented  in  this  place.” 

The  tale  is  simply  told,  but  no  rhetoric  could  add  to  its 
pathos.  The  frightful  orgies,  whose  dolor,  says  an  eye  wit¬ 
ness,  “no  pen  though  made  of  harpy’s  quill,  could  describe;” 
the  council  fire  and  hellish  pantomime,  by  which  Quentin  un¬ 
derstood  that  some  were  destined  to  the  stake;  the  savage 
brutes  at  length  satiated  with  rioting,  heavy  and  stupid  with 
sleep,  their  usual  precautions  forgotten;  the  lonely  watcher, 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


1 14 


his  soul  racked  with  torturing  anguish,  meditating  on  the 
chances  of  escape;  his  desperate  resolution  to  attempt  it,  and 
noisily  replenishing  the  fire  with  the  double  purpose  of  test¬ 
ing  the  vigilance  of  his  foes  and  the  wakefulness  of  his 
friends;  cautiously  removing  the  weapons,  where  they  may 
be  ready  for  his  purpose,  and  then,  as  hope  dies  within  his 
breast,  as  carefully  replacing  them,  with  the  despairing  con¬ 
sciousness  that  failure  would  only  hasten  the  captives’  doom, 
with  never  once  a  thought  of  leaving  them  to  their  fate  and 
seeking  safety  for  himself  in  flight, — all  this  is  pictured  with 
awful  vividness. 

At  this  period,  there  was  trouble  between  the  Mohawks  and 
the  Christian  Indians,  on  account  of  the  neglect  of  the  latter 
to  pay  their  customary  tribute  to  the  warlike  lords  of  the  Mo¬ 
hawk  valley. 

Six  Mohawks,  fully  armed,  had  been  seized  near  Boston 
while  hunting,  and  thrown  into  prison  by  the  authorities  there. 
A  party  of  Mohawks  with  a  scalp,  and  two  Natick  squaws  as 
captives,  having  passed  through  Hatfield  on  the  very  day  be¬ 
fore  the  assault  upon  that  town,  the  opinion  prevailed  that  it 
was  made  by  them.  Distracted  with  grief,  Benjamin  Waite, 
one  of  the  bereaved  husbands,  hastened  immediately  to  Al¬ 
bany  to  demand  redress,  but  returned  with  the  assurance 
that  the  New  York  Indians  were  innocent  of  the  affair.  A 
fortnight  had  elapsed  since  the  capture,  and  the  distressed 
people  of  Hatfield  could  learn  nothing  of  the  fate  of  their 
friends,  when  Benoni  Stebbins,  having  escaped  from  his  cap- 
tors,  returned  with  definite  information  concerning  them. 
His  relation  as  given  by  himself  to  the  Northampton  post¬ 
master,  October  6th,  1667,  is  a  curious  document.  He  states 
that  his  captors  were 

“river  Indians,  Norvvattucks,  save  only  one  Narragansett,  twenty- 
six  in  all,  eighteen  fighting  men,  two  squaws,  the  rest  old  men  and 
boys;  that  they  came  from  the  French  whither  they  had  fled  at  the 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


I  15 


end  of  the  war,  and  intended  to  return  there  again  to  sell  the  cap¬ 
tives,  having  been  encouradged  that  they  should  have  eight  pounds 
apiece  for  them.” 

They  also  gave  Stebbins  the  comforting  assurance  that  the 
French  Indians  intended  “to  come  with  them  the  next  time, 
either  in  the  spring  or  winter,  if  they  had  sucses  this  time.” 
The  party  having  encamped  thirty  miles  above  Northfield,  as 
we  have  already  seen  by  Stockwell’s  narration,  a  part  of  the 
company  was  sent  to  “Watchuset  hills  to  fetch  away  some 
Indians  that  had  lived  there  through  the  war.”  Stebbins 
accompanied  them,  and  having  been  sent  out  with  two 
squaws  and  a  mare  to  pick  huckleberries,  he  says  he  “got  up¬ 
on  the  mare  and  rid  till  he  tired  the  mare,  and  then  run  on 
foot  and  so  escaped  to  Hadley,  being  two  days  and  a  half 
without  vituals.” 

Wachusett  hills,  as  often  spoken  of  by  the  historians  of 
Philip’s  war,  included  a  much  wider  geographic  extent  than 
in  our  day.  The  expedition  alluded  to  is  mentioned  in  Pyn- 
chon’s  letter  which  follows,  as  having  been  made  to  “Nasha- 
way  Ponds.” 

Simultaneously  with  the  attack  upon  Hatfield,  Wonaloncet, 
a  Merrimac  sagamore,  always  peaceable  and  friendly  toward 
the  English,  a  praying  Indian,  in  whose  wigwam  Mr.  Eliot 
often  held  meetings,  was  spirited  away  with  some  of  his  peo¬ 
ple,  by  Indians  from  Canada,  and  never  permitted  to  return. 
It  is  quite  possible  that  the  detachment  accompanied  by 
Stebbins  was  sent  to  seek  this  very  party.  Intelligence  of 
Stebbins’s  return  was  forwarded  immediately  to  Major  Pyn- 
chon  at  Springfield,  who  at  once  despatched  the  following 
letter  to  Albany,  in  the  hope  of  inducing  the  Mohawks  to 
undertake  the  recovery  of  the  other  captives. 

“These  for  his  honored  ffriend  Capt.  Salisbury,  Commander-in- 
Chiefe  at  ffort  Albany — Hast,  Post  Hast,  for  his  Majestie’s  special 


service. 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


I  1 6 


Springfield,  Oct.  5,  1677. 

Capt.  Salisbury — 

Worthy  Sir : — 

Yesterday  morning  I  rec’d 
yo’r  kind  linis  by  Benj.  Waite,  whereby  I  understand  yo’r  sympathy 
with  us  in  o’r  sad  disaster  by  ye  Indians:  and  yo’r  readiness  in  mak¬ 
ing  greate  Inquiries,  and  greate  foirwardness  to  do  what  Possible 
lyes  in  you  for  us,  w’ch  I  have  abundant  cause  to  acknowledge,  and 

do  most  thankfully  accept . and  as  to  your  opinion  of  the 

Maquas  being  free,  and  assuring  me  of  their  innocency,  I  do  fully 
concur  with  you,  having  satisfaction  fr’m  what  you  wrote,  and  from 
Benj.  Waite’s  relation.  But  to  put  it  out  of  all  doubt,  God  in  His 
Providence  hath  sent  us  one  of  o’r  captivated  men,  Benoni  Stebbins 

by  name,  w’ch  is  ye  occasion  of  these  lines  to  yo’rself . So 

desire  ye  to  put  ye  Maquas  upon  Psueing  their  and  our  enemys,  there 
being  greate  likelihood  of  their  overtaking  them.  Benoni  Stebbins 
came  into  Hadley  last  night  in  ye  night,  whose  relation  was  sent  to 
me,  w’h  being  but  an  hour  since  I  had  it,  I  Psently  resolved  upon 
sending  Post  to  you.” 

Then  follows  a  minute  account  of  the  capture  and  flight 
toward  Canada  with  Stebbins’s  escape. 

“He  says,”  continues  Pynchon,  “that  one  of  the  Indians  from  Nash- 
away  Ponds,  seems  to  be  a  counsellor  w’h  they  have  consulted  much; 
and  spoke  of  sending  to  the  English,  but  at  last  resolved  for  Cana¬ 
da,  yet  talkt  of  making  a  forte  a  greate  way  up  the  river,  and  abid¬ 
ing  there  this  winter,  and  also  of  carrying  the  captives  and  selling 
ym  to  ye  French,  which  he  concludes  they  resolved  on,  but  make 
but  slow  passage,  concludes  it  may  be  twenty  days  ere  they  get  to 
ye  lake . 

In  his  postscript  Pynchon  adds: 

“Ben  Wait  is  gone  home,  before  the  Intelligence  came  to  me.  He 
talkt  of  goeing  to  Canada  before,  and  I  suppose  will  rather  be  For¬ 
ward  to  it  now  than  Backward.” 

So  good  an  opportunity  for  opening  a  correspondence  with 
the  New  York  Indians,  with  a  view  to  their  pacification  and 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


II  7 


to  the  recovery  of  the  captives  was  not  neglected  by  our  Gov¬ 
ernment.  The  six  Mohawks  released  from  prison,  were  sent 
home  bearing  formal  letters  of  apology  for  their  seizure, 
with  a  demand  for  the  Natick  squaws,  and  a  remonstrance 
against  future  depredations  on  the  Christian  Indians,  togeth¬ 
er  with  diplomatic  assurances  of  the  “special  respect”  of 
Massachusetts  for  the  Macquas. 

The  tidings  of  Stebbins’s  escape  caused  fear  and  trembling 
among  the  remaining  captives.  Stockwell  was  informed  of 
it  by  Ashpelon,  the  captain  of  his  party,  who  seems  to  have 
treated  the  English  with  the  utmost  kindness,  and  whose 
shrewd  mediation  saved  them  more  than  once  from  dreadful 
death. 

“He  met  me  and  told  me  Stebbins  was  run  away,  and  the  In¬ 
dians  spake  of  burning  us;  some  of  only  burning  and  biting  off 
our  Fingers  by-and-by.  He  said  there  would  be  a  Court,  and  all 
would  speak  their  minds,  but  he  would  speak  last,  and  would  say, 
that  the  Indian  that  let  Stebbins  run  away,  was  only  in  fault,  and  so 
no  hurt  should  be  done  us,  fear  not:  and  so  it  proved  accordingly.” 

A  fortnight  after  the  seizure  of  Stockwell  and  his  friends, 
some  of  the  same  party  fired  the  mill  above  Hadley,  and  be¬ 
ing  overpowered  were  let  go,  on  condition  of  returning  soon 
to  treat  for  the  release  of  their  captives. 

Stockwell  says  that  Ashpelon  was  much  for  it,  but  the  Sa¬ 
chems  from  Wachusetts  when  they  came,  were  much  against 
it,  yet  were  willing  to  meet  the  English,  only  to  fall  upon 
and  take  them.  Ashpelon  charged  us  not  to  speak  a  word  of 
this,  as  mischief  would  come  of  it. 

While  they  lingered  at  this  encampment,  provisions  became 
so  scarce  that  one  bear’s  foot  had  to  serve  five  captives  for  a 
whole  day’s  rations,  and  they  began  to  kill  their  horses  for 
food.  At  length  resuming  their  journey,  they  reached  a 
small  river  about  two  hundred  miles  above  Deerfield,  by 
Stockwell's  reckoning,  where  they  separated  into  two  com- 


1 18 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


panies.  The  division  to  which  he  was  attached  passed  over 
“a  mighty  mountain,”  which  they  were  eight  days  in  crossing, 
though  they  “travelled  very  hard.”  They  suffered  greatly 
on  this  march. 

“Here  I  was  frozen,  and  here  again  we  were  like  to  starve.  All  the 
Indians  went  a  Hunting  but  cotdd  get  nothing;  divers  dayes  they 
Powwow’d  but  got  nothing,  then  they  desired  the  English  to  Pray, 
and  confessed  they  could  do  nothing  ;  they  would  have  us  Pray, 
and  see  what  the  Englishman’s  God  could  do.  I  Prayed,  so  did 
Sergeant  Plimpton,  in  another  place.  The  Indians  reverently  at¬ 
tended,  Morning  and  Night;  next  day  they  got  Bears:  then  they 
would  needs  have  us  desire  a  Blessing,  and  return  Thanks  at  Meals: 
after  a  while  they  grew  weary  of  it,  and  the  Sachim  did  forbid  us. 
When  I  was  frozen  they  were  very  cruel  towards  me,  because  I  could 
not  do  as  at  other  times.  When  we  came  to  the  Lake  we  were 
again  sadly  put  to  it  for  Provisions;  we  were  fain  to  eat  Touch- 
wood  fryed  in  Bears’  Greace. 

At  last  we  found  a  company  of  Raccons,  then  we  made  a  Feast; 
and  the  manner  was,  that  we  must  eat  all.  I  perceived  there  would 
be  too  much  for  one  time,  so  one  Indian  that  sat  next  to  me,  bid 
me  slip  away  some  to  him  under  his  Coat,  and  he  would  hide  it  for 
me  till  another  time;  this  Indian  as  soon  as  he  had  got  my  Meat, 
stood  up  and  made  a  Speech  to  the  rest,  and  discovered  me,  so  that 
the  Indians  were  very  angry,  and  gave  me  another  piece,  and  gave 
me  Raccoon’s  Grease  to  drink,  which  made  me  sick  and  Vomit.  I 
told  them  I  had  enough;  so  that  ever  after  that  they  would  give 
me  none  but  still  tell  me  I  had  Raccoon  enough  ;  so  I  suffered 
much,  and  being  frozen  was  full  of  Pain,  and  could  sleep  but  a  lit¬ 
tle,  yet  must  do  my  work.  When  they  went  upon  the  lake,  they  lit 
of  a  moose  and  killed  it,  and  staid  there  till  they  had  eaten  it  all  up. 

After  entering  upon  the  lake  there  arose  a  great  storm . but  at 

last  they  got  to  an  island  and  there  they  went  to  Powowing.  The 
Powwow  said  that  Benjamin  Waite  and  another  Man  was  coming 
and  that  storm  was  raised  to  cast  them  away.  This  afterwards  ap¬ 
peared  to  be  true,  though  then  I  believed  it  not.” 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


ll9 


Continued  storms  kept  them  cruising  among  the  islands 
for  about  three  weeks,  during  which  time  the  Indians  them¬ 
selves  were  almost  starved.  Stock  well  was  days  without 
food.  The  lake  being  now  frozen,  they  went  upon  it  with 
little  sleds  upon  which  they  drew  their  loads.  Faint  with 
hunger  and  pain,  after  repeated  falls  upon  the  ice,  ‘T  was  so 
spent,”  continues  the  narrator, 

“1  had  not  strength  to  rise  again,  but  I  crept  to  a  tree  that  lay 
along,  and  got  upon  it,  and  there  I  lay;  it  was  now  night,  and  very 
sharp  weather:  I  counted  no  other  but  I  must  die  there;  whilest  I 
was  thinking  of  Death,  an  Indian  Hallowed,  and  I  answered  him;* 
he  came  to  me,  and  called  me  bad  names,  and  told  me  if  I  could  not 
go  he  must  knock  me  on  the  head:  I  told  him  he  must  then  so  do; 
he  saw  how  I  had  wallowed  in  that  Snow,  but  could  not  rise;  then 
he  took  his  Coat,  and  wrapt  me  in  it,  and  went  back,  and  sent  two 
Indians  with  a  Sled,  one  said  he  must  knock  me  on  the  Head,  the 
other  said  No,  they  would  carry  me  away  and  burn  me.” 

On  seeing  his  frozen  feet,  however,  they  relented,  carried 
him  to  a  fire  and  gave  him  broth,  which  revived  him  so  much 
that  at  daylight  he  and  Samuel  Russell,  the  eight  years  old 
child  taken  from  Deerfield,  went  upon  a  river  on  the  ice.  A 
strange  and  sad  companionship.  Russell  slipping  into  the 
water,  was  called  back  by  the  Indians,  who  dried  his  stock¬ 
ings,  and  sending  the  two  ahead  again  with  an  Indian  guide, 
they  ran  four  or  five  miles  before  the  rest  came  up  to  them. 
The  poor  little  boy  complaining  of  faintness,  told  Stockwell, 
who  was  much  exhausted,  that  he  wondered  how  he  could 
live,  for  he  himself  had  ten  meals  to  Stockwell’s  one.  Stock- 
well  was  then  laid  on  a  sled  and  they  ran  away  with  him  on 
the  ice.  He  says  “The  rest  and  Samuel  Russell  came  softly 
after.  Samuel  Russell  I  never  saw  more,  nor  knew  what  be¬ 
came  of  him.” 

A  halt  of  three  or  four  days  was  made  at  Chambly,  where 


120 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


Stockwell  was  kindly  treated  by  the  French,  who  gave  him 
hasty-pudding  and  milk,  with  brandy,  and  bathed  his  frozen 
limbs  with  cold  water.  He  was  treated  with  great  civility 
by  a  young  man,  who  let  him  lie  in  his  bed,  and  would  have 
bought  him,  had  not  the  Indians  demanded  a  hundred  pounds 
for  him.  To  prevent  his  being  abused,  this  young  man  ac¬ 
companied  Stockwell  to  Sorel. 

From  Sorel  the  captives  were  taken  to  the  Indian  lodge 
two  or  three  miles  distant,  where  the  French  visited  Stock- 
well,  and  it  being  Christmas,  they  brought  him  cakes  and 
other  provisions.  The  Indians  having  tried  in  vain  to  cure 
him,  he  asked  for  a  chirurgeon,  at  which  one  of  them  struck 
him  on  the  face  with  his  fist.  A  Frenchman  near  by  remon¬ 
strated  and  went  away,  but  soon  after,  the  Captain  of  the 
place  with  twelve  soldiers,  came  and  asked  for  the  Indian 
who  had  struck  the  Englishman.  Seizing  him,  he  told  him 
he  should  go  to  the  Bilboes  and  then  be  hanged.  The  In¬ 
dian  was  much  terrified  at  this,  as  also  was  Stockwell,  but 
the  Frenchman  bade  him  not  to  fear,  the  Indian  durst  not 
hurt  him. 

“When  that  Indian  was  gone,”  he  says,  “I  had  two  masters  still. 
I  asked  them  to  carry  me  to  that  Captain,  that  I  might  speak  for 
the  Indian.  They  answered  I  was  a  fool;  did  I  think  the  French¬ 
man  were  like  to  the  English,  to  say  one  thing  and  do  another? — 
they  were  men  of  their  words,  but  I  prevailed  with  them  to  help  me 
thither,  and  I  spake  to  the  Captain  by  an  Interpreter,  and  told  him 
I  desired  him  to  set  the  Indian  free,  and  told  him  what  he  had  done 
for  me,  he  told  me  he  was  a  Rogue,  and  should  be  hanged,  then  I 
spake  more  privately,  alleging  this  Reason,  because  all  the  English 
Captives  were  not  come  in,  if  he  were  hanged  it  might  fare  the  worse 
with  them  :  then  the  Captain  said,  that  was  to  be  considered  :  then 
he  set  him  at  liberty,  upon  this  condition,  that  he  should  never  strike 
me  more,  and  every  day  bring  me  to  his  House  to  eat  victuals.” 

The  magnanimity  of  his  captive  so  delighted  the  Indian 


Bartlett 


, 

I 

-  4 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


1 2  I 


that  he  embraced  him,  called  him  his  brother,  treated  him  to 
brandy,  and  carried  him  off  to  his  wigwam,  where  all  the 
other  Indians  shook  hands  with  him  and  thanked  him.  The 
next  day  according  to  promise,  Stockwell  was  carried  to  the 
house  of  the  Captain,  who  gave  him  victuals  and  wine. 

“Being  left  there  a  while,”  says  he,  “I  showed  the  Captain  and 
his  wife  my  fingers,  who  were  affrighted  thereat  and  bid  me  lap  it 
up  again  and  sent  for  the  chirurgeon  who  when  he  came  said  he 
could  cure  me  and  took  it  in  hand  and  dressed  it.  The  Indians 

came  for  me  ; . I  could  not  go . That  night  I  was  full 

of  pain;  the  French  were  afraid  I  would  die;  five  men  did  watch 
with  me,  and  strove  to  keep  me  chearly,  for  I  was  ready  to  faint: 
oft-times  they  gave  me  brandy;  the  next  day  the  chirurgeon  came 
again,  as  he  did  all  the  while  till  May.  I  continued  in  the  Captain’s 
house  till  Benjamin  Waite  came,  and  my  Indian  master  being  in 
want  of  money,  pawned  me  to  the  Captain  for  fourteen  beavers,  or 
the  worth  of  them,  which  if  he  did  not  pay,  he  must  lose  his  pawn, 
or  sell  me  for  one  and  twenty  beavers.  He  could  get  no  beavers, 
so  I  was  sold,  and  in  God’s  good  time  set  at  liberty  and  returned 
to  my  friends  in  New  England.” 

Thus  ends  the  sorrowful  narrative  of  one  of  that  little  com¬ 
pany,  ruthlessly  torn  from  home  and  friends  on  that  bright 
September  day,  two  centuries  ago, — a  strong  man  in  the 
prime  of  life; — but  who  shall  tell  the  woful  sufferings  of  the 
old  man  of  four-score,  the  tender  babes,  and  helpless  women, 
who  with  him  were  first  to  tread  that  cruel  way  into  Indian 
captivity,  travelled  later  by  so  many  weary  feet?  Benjamin 
Waite,  shuddering  at  its  horrors  for  his  delicate  wife  and 
three  little  girls,  determined  to  follow  and  share  their  fate, 
if  he  could  not  recover  them.  Stephen  Jennings,  another 
Hatfield  man,  whose  wife  and  children  were  among  the  cap¬ 
tives,  joined  him. 

The  attempt  of  the  Government  to  enlist  the  Mohawks  in 
its  service,  for  the  pursuit  of  their  common  enemy  having 
failed,  the  General  Court,  in  answer  to  a  petition  from  Hat- 


122 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


field,  issued  an  order  for  the  recovery  of  the  captives,  and 
resolved  that  all  incidental  expenses  should  be  defrayed  by 
the  colony. 

On  the  24th  of  October,  1677,  Waite  and  Jennings  set 
forward  on  their  mission  of  love.  They  bore  a  commission 
and  letters  from  the  the  Governor  and  other  influential 
persons,  explaining  the  object  of  their  journey,  and  bespeak¬ 
ing  the  aid  of  the  New  York  and  Canadian  authorities  in  pro¬ 
moting  it.  By  way  of  Westfield,  they  reached  Albany  on 
the  seventh  day  and  immediately  presented  their  credentials 
to  Capt.  Salisbury,  Commandant  at  the  post.  Convinced  by 
the  discourteous  manner  of  this  arbitrary  officer,  that  he  had 
no  desire  to  forward  their  enterprise,  they  did  not  comply 
with  his  orders  to  call  upon  him  again  before  leaving  town, 
but  went  at  once  to  Schenectady  to  procure  an  Indian  guide 
for  their  journey.  Enquiring  who  the  strangers  were,  the 
Dutch  were  told  that  they  belonged  in  Boston;  whereupon 
declaring  that  the  Englishmen  said  that  Schenectady  be¬ 
longed  to  Boston,  and  acting  doubtless  under  secret  orders 
from  Salisbury,  they  remanded  them  to  Albany.  There  they 
were  detained  as  prisoners  till  an  opportunity  offered  to  send 
them  down  to  New  York  for  examination  by  the  Governor 
and  Council.  These  proceedings  forcibly  remind  one  of  the 
fable  of  the  wolf  and  the  lamb.  New  York  had  never  forgiven 
Massachusetts  for  her  occupation  of  Connecticut  River,  and 
was  ready  to  seize  upon  the  slightest  pretence  for  a  quarrel. 
The  existing  ill-will  appears  in  the  minutes  of  the  council 
concerning  the  examination  of  Waite  and  Jennings  where 
Waite  is  reported  as  denying  the  accusation  brought  against 
him  that  he  had  said  that  Schenectady  belonged  to  Bos¬ 
ton,  pretending  some  mistake,  they  not  understanding  one 
another’s  language.  It  was  finally  resolved  to  allow  them 
to  proceed  on  their  voyage,  aiid  with  an  order  from  Capt. 
Brockholes,  then  acting  as  Governor,  that  no  further  ob- 


-v 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


123 


stacles  should  be  interposed,  they  were  sent  back  to  Albany. 

Waiting  in  the  hope  of  finding  ice  on  the  lakes,  and  also 
delayed  by  the  difficulty  of  obtaining  a  guide,  the  10th  of  De¬ 
cember  arrived  before  these  sorely  tried  men  could  perfect 
the  arrangements  for  their  perilous  march  through Ahe  wil¬ 
derness.  The  French  guide  whom  they  had  hired,  failing 
them  at  the  last  minute,  a  Mohawk  Indian  offered  to  conduct 
them  to  Lake  George.  Much  to  their  disappointment  on  ar¬ 
riving  there,  it  was  free  from  ice.  Finding  an  old  canoe,  the 
Indian  refitted  it,  and  after  drawing  for  them  on  birch  bark 
a  rough  draft  of  the  lakes  over  which  they  were  to  pass,  he 
bade  them  adieu.  Three  days  took  them  to  the  outlet  of  Lake 
George,  and  carrying  their  canoe  two  miles  across  the  portage, 
they  reached  the  shore  of  Lake  Champlain  on  the  16th  of  De¬ 
cember.  Here  they  took  to  the  ice,  but  after  a  day’s  journey 
it  proved  too  weak  to  bear  them,  and  sadly  retracing  their 
steps,  they  carried  the  canoe  forward  to  open  water,  and  again 
embarked.  Imagine  the  desolation  of  these  sorrow-stricken 
wayfarers,  as  they  floated  for  days  without  food  in  their  frail  . 
skiff,  buffeted  and  tossed  by  the  wintry  winds  and  icy  waters 
of  that  unknown  sea. 

Sustained  through  all  their  hardships  by  that  mighty  af¬ 
fection  which  gives  us  strength  to  bear  all  and  dare  all  for 
our  beloved  ones,  and  protected  in  all  dangers  by  that  Provi¬ 
dence  which  notes  the  sparrow’s  fall,  they  made  land  at  last 
on  New-Year’s  day.  Hastening  forward,  and  greatly  re¬ 
freshed  on  the  way  by  some  biscuits  and  a  bottle  of  brandy 
left  by  some  hunter  in  a  deserted  wigwam,  they  passed 
Chambly,  then  a  frontier  settlement  of  ten  houses.  Before 
reaching  Sorel,  they  came  upon  an  Indian  encampment, 
where  Jennings  was  overjoyed  to  find  his  wife.  With  sobs 
and  broken  speech  she  told  him  all  she  had  endured,  and  how 
it  had  fared  with  the  rest;  how  Samuel  Russell  and  little 
Mary  Foote  had  been  killed  on  the  way;  how  Goodman 


124 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


Plympton  had  survived  the  perils  of  the  journey  only  to  be 
murdered  at  the  end;  and  how,  after  all  had  been  continually 
threatened  with  burning,  this  old  man  was  selected  as  the 
victim,  and  led  to  the  stake  by  his  friend  and  neighbor, 
Obadiah  Dickinson,  had  walked  serenely  to  his  dreadful 
death.  Groans  burst  from  the  lips  of  the  two  men  as  they 
listened  to  the  harrowing  details,  but  restraining  their  in¬ 
dignation,  they  hurried  off  to  bargain  for  the  redemption  of 
their  beloved  ones.  At  Sorel  they  saw  five  more  of  the  com¬ 
pany,  two  of  whom  had  been  pawned  by  the  Indians  for  rum. 
Waite’s  wife  with  all  the  rest  of  the  captives  was  found  in 
the  Indian  lodges  in  the  woods  beyond.  Stopping  only  to 
comfort  her  with  the  joyful  tidings  of  her  speedy  release, 
Waite  and  Jennings  pushed  on  to  Quebec,  where  they  were 
kindly  received  by  the  Governor.  Glad  of  an  opportunity  to 
make  return  for  a  favor  lately  done  him  by  the  English  Gov¬ 
ernment,  Frontenac  aided  them  in  collecting  the  captives 
and  procuring  their  ransom,  which  was  effected  by  the  pay¬ 
ment  of  £200. 

On  the  19th  of  April,  1678,  the  redeemed  captives  with 
their  deliverers,  escorted  by  four  gentlemen  of  Frontenac’s 
household  and  a  guard  of  French  soldiers,  began  the  home¬ 
ward  march.  Travelling  leisurely  and  hunting  by  the  way 
as  occasion  required,  they  arrived  at  Albany  on  the  22d  of 
May,  whence  a  messenger  was  at  once  sent  post  haste  with 
the  following  letters  from  Stockwell  and  Waite  to  their 
friends  at  Hatfield: 

Albany,  May  22,  1678. 

“ Loving  Wife: — Having  now  opportunity  to  remember  my  kind 
love  to  thee  and  our  child  and  the  rest  of  our  friends,  though  we 
met  with  great  afflictions  and  trouble  since  1  see  thee  last,  yet  here 
is  now  opportunity  of  joy  and  thanksgiving  to  God,  that  we  are 
now  pretty  well  and  in  a  hopeful  way  to  see  the  faces  of  one  another, 
before  we  take  our  final  farewell  of  this  present  world.  Likewise 


GOVERNOR  Of'  LOIFLSIANA 


•Engraved  by 


is  uiUfi  from  a  portrait  in  t 


I.IIB.D© bnw  Ek'i 


copied  from  the  ongpiul  iu  thr  I'amil/of  Baron  Grant 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


125 


God  hath  raised  up  friends  amongst  our  enemies,  and  there  is  but 
three  of  us  dead  of  all  those  that  were  taken  away.  So  I  conclude, 
being  in  haste  and  rest  your  most  affectionate  husband  till  death 
makes  a  separation.  Quintin  Stockwell.” 

“  To  my  loving  friends  and  kindred  at  Hatfield-. — These  few  lines  are 
to  let  you  understand  that  we  are  arrived  at  Albany  with  the  cap¬ 
tives,  and  we  now  stand  in  need  of  assistance,  for  my  charges  is  very 
great  and  heavy  and  therefore  any  that  have  any  love  to  our  condi¬ 
tion,  let  it  move  them  to  come  and  help  us  in  this  strait.  Three  of 
the  captives  are  murdered:  old  Goodman  Plympton,  Samuel  Foote’s 
daughter  and  Samuel  Russell:  All  the  rest  are  alive  and  well  and 
now  at  Albany.  1  pray  you  hasten  the  matter,  for  it  requireth  great 
haste.  Stay  not  for  the  Sabbath,  nor  for  the  shoeing  of  horses.  We 
shall  endeavor  to  meet  you  at  Canterhook;  it  may  be  at  Housato- 
nock.  We  must  come  very  softly  because  of  our  wives  and  children. 
I  pray  you  hasten  then.  Stay  not  night  nor  day,  for  the  matter  re¬ 
quireth  haste.  Bring  provisions  with  you  for  us. 

Your  loving  kinsman, 

Benjamin  Waite. 

At  Albany  written  from  mine  own  hand  as  I  have  been  affected 
to  yours  all  that  were  fatherless,  be  affected  to  me  now,  and  hasten 
and  stay  not,  and  ease  me  of  my  charges.  You  shall  not  need  to  be 
afraid  of  any  enemies.” 

Copies  of  these  letters  were  sent  to  the  Governor  and  Coun¬ 
cil  at  Boston,  who  had  previously  appointed  a  day  of  fasting, 
and  who  immediately  issued  an  order  recommending  “that 
on  that  day  the  ministers  and  congregation  manifest  their 
charity  for  the  captives  by  a  contribution  and  that  for  the 
quickening  of  the  work  Benjamin  Waite’s  letter  be  publicly 
read  that  day  in  all  the  churches.” 

After  tarrying  five  days  in  Albany,  the  party  went  on  foot 
twenty-two  miles  to  Kinderhook,  where  men  and  horses 
awaited  them.  At  Westfield  many  old  friends  and  neigh¬ 
bors  from  Hatfield  met  them,  and  their  progress  thence  was 


126 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


like  a  triumphal  procession,  every  neighborhood  turning  out 
to  greet  them.  Two  proud  and  happy  men  were  Benjamin 
Waite  and  Stephen  Jennings,  as  they  headed  the  cavalcade 
into  Hatfield  street  that  May  morning,  each  bearing  in  his 
arms  his  new,  little  daughter,  and  tears  streamed  from  every 
eye  as  crowding  round  to  welcome  home  the  wanderers,  the 
people  passed  from  one  to  another  the  two  little  babies,  born 
in  bondage  and  christened  in  commemoration  of  the  sorrows 
of  their  mothers,  Canada  Waite  and  Captivity  Jennings.  It 
may  interest  some  to  know  that  both  children  grew  to 
womanhood,  and  that  the  former  became  the  grandmother  of 
the  late  Oliver  Smith,  gratefully  remembered  by  many  in 
the  Connecticut  valley. 

Stockwell’s  experience  of  Indian  hospitality  seems  to  have 
disgusted  him  with  frontier  life,  and  the  year  after  his  return 
he  removed  to  Suffield,  Conn.  That  others  still  cherished 
the  hope  of  finally  possessing  their  lands  in  peace  is  proved 
by  the  following : 

“To"  the  honoured  Generali  Court  of  the  Masachusetts  Bay  now 
setting  in  Boston  ye  8th  3,  ’78: 1 
Rigt  Worshipfull : . 

We  do  veryly  hope  your  thoughts  are  soe  upon  us  &  our  con¬ 
dition  that  it  would  be  superfluous  to  tell  you  that  our  estates  are 
wasted  that  we  find  it  hard  work  to  Live  in  this  Iron  age  to  Come 
to  the  years  end  with  Comfort;  our  houses  have  been  Rifled  &  burned 
— our  flocks  &  beards  consumed— the  ablest  of  our  Inhabitants 
killed — our  plantation  has  become  a  wilderness — a  dwelling  place 
for  owls, — &  we  that  are  left  are  separated  into  several  townes — 
Also  our  reverand  &  esteemed  Minister,  Mr.  Samuel  Mather  hath 
been  invited  from  us  &  greate  danger  ther  is  of  or  loosing  him; 
all  which  speaks  us  a  people  in  a  very  misirable  condition,  tSj 
unlest  you  will  be  pleased  to  take  us  (out  of  your  father-like  pitty) 
&  Cherish  us  in  yor  bosomes  we  are  like  Suddinly  to  breathe  out 

'Mass.  Archives,  May  8,  1678. 


SETTLEMENT  OF  A  FRONTIER  TOWN. 


127 


or  last  Breath.  Right  Honoured  The  Committie  appointed  to  man¬ 
age  or  affairs  for  us  the  Rev.  Mr  Mather  who  hath  not  yet  quitte  for¬ 
saken  us,  &  we  the  Remaining  Inhabitants  Joyfully  doe  desire 
that  we  might  return  &  plant  that  place  againe.  Yet  we  would 

earnestly  begg . that  we  may  Repossess  the  Said  plantation 

with  great  Advantage  Both  for  the  advancing  the  cause  &  King- 
dome  of  Jesus  &  for  or  own  saftie  &  comfort . ” 

The  petition  then  enlarges  upon  the  drawback  they  have 
heretofore  encountered,  in  the  fact  that  the  best  land  is  held 
by  the  proprietors,  who  are  likely  never  to  settle  in  Deerfield, 
and  declare  that  Mr.  Mather  and  they  are  of  opinion  “the 
plantation  will  be  spoiled  if  these  men  may  not  be  begged  or 
will  not  be  bought  out  of  their  rights.”  They  conclude  as 
follows: 

“All  judicious  men  who  have  any  acquaintance  with  it,  Count  It  as 
Rich  a  tract  of  land  as  any  upon  the  river;  they  Judge  it  sufficient 
to  entertain  &  maintain  as  great  number  of  Inhabitants  as  most  of 
the  upland  townes,  alsoe  were  it  well  peopled  it  would  be  as  a  bul¬ 
wark  to  the  other  townes;  also  it  would  be  a  great  disheartening 
to  the  enemie  &  veryly  (not  to  make  to  bold  with  your  worship’s  pa¬ 
tience)  It  would  mightily  Incourage  and  Raise  the  hearts  of  us  the 
Inhabitants  yor  poor  &  Impoverished  servants.” 

The  prayer  of  the  petitioners  was  not  answered.  The 
matter  was  referred  by  the  Court  to  the  proprietors,  and  no 
further  attempt  to  rebuild  Deerfield  was  made  until  1682. 


EUNICE  WILLIAMS. 


Towards  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century,  on  the 
bank  of  the  ice-bound  St.  Charles,  rose  a  hut,  with  the  high 
sounding  name  of  Notre-Dame  des  Anges.  Two  feet  above 
its  low  eaves  rose  the  drifted  snow.  Within,  great  logs  blazed 
in  the  “wide-throated  chimney,”  before  which,  on  a  wooden 
stool,  at  a  rough,  board  table,  sat  Paul  Le  Jeune,  Superior  of 
the  first  Jesuit  Mission  at  Quebec  in  New  France.  The  trees 
in  the  neighboring  forest  cracked  with  the  frost  like  the  re¬ 
port  of  a  pistol.  Le  Jeune’s  ink  and  his  fingers  froze;  but 
late  into  the  night,  bribing  his  Indian  teacher  with  tobacco, 
he  toiled  away  at  his  declensions,  translating  his  Pater  Noster 
and  Credo  into  “blundering  Algonquin.”  Then,  wrapped  in 
his  blanket,  which  was  soon  “fringed  with  the  icicles  of  his 
congealed  breath,”  he  snatched  an  hour’s  rest,  and  waking 
with  the  dawn,  with  a  hatchet  broke  the  ice  in  his  cask  for 
his  morning  ablutions,  and  began  his  labors  afresh. 

“From  Old  France  to  New,”  says  Mr.  Parkman,  “came  suc¬ 
cors  and  re-inforcements,”  and  a  year  before  Ffarvard  College 
was  founded,  there  was  at  Quebec,  the  beginning  of  a  school 
and  a  college  for  Huron  boys  and  French  youth.  “Our  Lady” 
smiled  upon  Paul  Le  Jeune’s  missions;  and  as  in  the  days  of 
Poutrincourt,  the  wealth  and  patronage  of  the  ladies  of  the 


EUNICE  WILLIAMS. 


129 


French  Court  sent  the  first  Jesuit  to  New  France,  so  the  suc¬ 
cess  of  these  later  missions  at  Quebec,  and  of  the  newly  con¬ 
secrated  Ville  Marie  de  Montreal,  was  in  great  measure  due 
to  the  zeal  and  romantic  devotion  of  Madame  de  La  Peltrie, 
Marie  de  L’Incarnation,  Mdlle.  Jeanne  Mance,  and  Margue¬ 
rite  Bourgeois  ;  and  no  one  can  read  the  story  of  Paul  Le 
Jeune  and  his  associates  as  related  by  themselves,  without 
mingled  admiration  and  respect  for  the  founders  of  Roman¬ 
ism  in  Canada. 

Meanwhile,  with  a  kindred  zeal,  that  noble  apostle,  John 
Eliot,  sat  in  his  little  study  at  Roxbury,  patiently  translating 
the  English  Bible  into  the  Algonquin  tongue  for  the  benefit 
of  the  Indians  near  Boston,  often  meeting  them  at  Nonantum 
hill,  after  the  duties  of  his  own  pulpit  were  discharged  for 
the  week,  and  there  expounding  to  them  its  simple  truths. 
Nor  was  this  the  end  of  his  labors  for  their  improvement. 
Believing  that  civilization,  or  civility,  as  he  calls  it,  should 
go  hand  in  hand  with  religion,  he  instructed  the  sachems  in 
agriculture  and  the  use  of  tools,  bought  spinning-wheels  for 
the  squaws,  and  not  neglecting  the  primer  for  the  Catechism, 
founded  schools  for  their  pappooses,  rewarding  their  dili¬ 
gence  with  the  gift  of  a  cake  or  an  apple.  At  last,  when  he 
had  established  his  praying  Indians,  as  they  were  called,  in 
a  village  of  their  own  at  Natick,  the  town  of  Dedham  was 
indemnified  for  the  loss  of  land  appropriated  to  their  use,  by 
a  grant  of  eight  thousand  acres  elsewhere  ;  and  what  is  now 
Deerfield  was  the  spot  selected. 

We  of  to-day,  looking  upon  the  fruits  of  two  hundred  years 
of  culture,  do  not  wonder  at  their  choice,  and  we  can  scarcely 
realize  how  resolute  and  pious  must  have  been  the  hearts, 
and  how  strong  the  hands,  of  the  men  and  women,  who  in 
1671,  began  the  settlement  of  Deerfield.  A  rude  life  they 
led  for  the  first  few  years,  with  no  school,  no  meeting-house, 
and  no  settled  minister;  though  Samuel  Mather,  son  of  Tim- 


130 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


othy  of  Dorchester,  ministered  to  them  in  1673,  boarding  at 
the  time  with  Quentin  Stockwell.  Driven  from  their  heri¬ 
tage  by  the  savage  hordes  of  Philip,  it  was  not  till  1682  that 
an  effort  at  resettlement  was  made. 

In  the  senior  class  at  Harvard  at  that  time,  was  John  Wil¬ 
liams,  a  studious  youth,  son  of  Deacon  Samuel  Williams  of 
Roxbury.  Graduated  from  a  class  of  three,  of  whom  two 
were  Williamses,  John  Williams,  then  but  twenty-two  years 
of  age,  after  studying  divinity,  was  ordained  minister  of 
Deerfield,  in  1688.  There  would  seem  to  be  little  in  the  po¬ 
sition  of  pastor  to  a  frontier  settlement  to  attract  a  young 
man  born  and  educated  at  the  metropolis  ;  and  without  doubt¬ 
ing  that  Mr.  Williams  was  mainly  actuated  by  that  mission¬ 
ary  spirit,  which  characterized  the  preachers  of  that  period, 
it  is  possible  that  a  previous  acquaintance  with  the  North¬ 
ampton  lady,  whom  he  married  the  year  after  his  ordination, 
made  him  more  willing  to  accept  the  call  to  Deerfield.  This 
was  Eunice  Mather,  a  cousin  of  the  first  minister  of  Deer¬ 
field,  daughter  of  Rev.  Eleazer  Mather,  and  descended  on 
her  mother’s  side  from  John  Warham,  a  noted  Puritan  Di¬ 
vine  of  Exeter,  England. 

Eunice  Williams,  second  daughter,  and  sixth  child  of  Rev. 
John  Williams,  was  born  September  17th,  1696.  She  was  the 
middle  child  of  eleven,  all  born  to  her  parents  within  sixteen 
years.  Though  nothing  can  be  definitely  stated  of  her  child¬ 
hood  previous  to  1704,  we  may  suppose  that  her  five  little 
brothers  and  sisters,  whose  births  are  recorded  as  rapidly 
succeeding  her  own,  monopolized  the  attention  of  the  mother 
with  whom  Esther,  the  eldest  daughter,  was  more  naturally 
associated  in  the  care  of  the  younger  ones;  while  the  father, 
busy  in  providing  for  his  rapidly  increasing  family,  and 
much  occupied  with  his  parish  duties,  devoted  the  little  lei¬ 
sure  that  remained,  to  planning  for  the  education  of  the  old¬ 
er  boys.  So  I  fancy  Eunice  a  pale,  delicate,  dark-eyed  child, 


EUNICE  WILLIAMS. 


!3T 


left  pretty  much  to  her  own  devices  for  the  first  six  years  of 
her  life. 

Let  us  glance  at  the  Deerfield  of  that  period.  We  see  it 
all, — the  palisade  enclosing  the  Garrison  House,1  the  parson¬ 
age  and  many  humble  dwellings;  the  forts  or  stockaded 
houses  outside;  the  old  meeting-house,  a  square  edifice,  from 
the  middle  of  whose  foursided  roof,  sprang  the  belfry, — emp¬ 
ty,  truth  compels  me  to  state,  for  the  bell,  whose  echoes 
sounded  so  pleasantly  in  our  ears  for  many  years,  has  recent¬ 
ly  been  silenced  forever  by  the  indefatigable  antiquary:2 
the  people,  with  names  and,  doubtless,  faces  so  familiar  to 
us, — valiant,  hard-working,  God-fearing  men;  heroic,  much- 
enduring,  pious  women.  Only  the  location  of  the  school- 
house,  where  Eunice  probably  went  to  school,  is  missing. 
But  though  the  fathers  and  mothers  of  that  time  were  for 
the  most  part  uneducated,  they  had  a  school-house,  and  in 
Eunice’s  day  as  in  ours,  a  Barnard  was  the  noted  school 
dame  of  the  village;  public-spirited,  like  her  of  our  time,  be¬ 
queathing  large  legacies  to  the  schools.  Eunice  was  a  good 
reader,  and  knew  her  Catechism  by  heart.  Mr.  John  Catlin 
was  then  school  committee  and  I  have  no  doubt,  that  when 
he  visited  the  school,  Eunice  felt  very  much  as  we  have  on 
similar  occasions;  and  that  being  the  minister’s  daughter, 
she  was  plied  with  longer  words  and  harder  questions  than 
the  rest;  and  that  she  privately  told  Martha  and  Abigail 
French  that  she  didn’t  like  their  grandfather  at  all.  She 
liked  to  go  to  Deacon  French’s,  who  lived  on  what  is  now  the 
site  of  the  second  church  parsonage.  The  Deacon  was  the 
blacksmith  of  the  village,  and  his  shop  stood  a  few  rods  west 
of  his  house.  Eunice  would  stand  hours  watching  him,  as 
he  beat  into  shape  the  plough-shares,  that  had  been  bent  by 

*Ever  after  the  attack  on  Deerfield,  known  as  the  “Old  Indian  House.” 

2Hon.  George  Sheldon,  of  Deerfield,  by  whom  the  legendary  “Bell  of  Saint 
Regis,”  has  been  proved  a  myth. 


132 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


the  stumps  in  the  newly  cleared  lands.  As  the  sparks  flew 
up  from  the  flaming  forge,  she  thought  of  the  verse  in  the 
Bible,  “Man  is  born  unto  trouble  as  the  sparks  fly  upward,” 
and  wondered  what  it  meant.  Too  soon,  alas,  she  learned. 

The  Indians  for  a  time  held  in  check  by  the  defeat  and 
death  of  Philip,  were  beginning  again  to  desolate  the  scat¬ 
tered  villages.  When  in  1689,  they  settled  old  scores  with 
Major  Waldron  at  Dover,  they  killed  Richard  Otis,  and  took 
his  wife  and  baby  with  other  captives  to  Canada.  Scalping 
parties  hovered  perpetually  about  Deerfield,  and  the  new¬ 
born  settlement  was  soon  baptized  in- blood. 

When  in  1702,  Dudley  left  England  to  assume  the  govern¬ 
ment  of  Massachusetts,  it  was  evident  that  the  English  queen 
could  not  overlook  the  insult  offered  her  by  Louis  XIV.  As 
ever  since  the  peace  of  1698,  the  Canadian  government  had 
lost  no  opportunity  of  exciting  the  eastern  Indians  to  hostil¬ 
ity,  under  the  pretext  of  protecting  them  from  the  encroach¬ 
ments  of  the  English,  it  was  inevitable  that  war  between  the 
two  nations  in  the  Old  World,  must  be  followed  by  a  renew¬ 
al  of  atrocities  in  New  England.  As  a  precautionary  meas¬ 
ure,  Dudley  appointed  a  conference  with  the  sachems,  in 
June,  1703,  at  Casco,  and  repairing  thither  with  his  suite,  was 
met  on  the  30th,  by  Hopehood  of  Norridgwock,  Wanungunt 
of  Penobscot,  and  Wattanummon  of  Pennacook,  with  their 
chief  sagamores.  In  stereotyped  phrase,  the  new  governor 
said,  that  commissioned  by  his  victorious  queen,  he  had  come 
as  to  friends  and  brothers,  to  reconcile  all  differences  since 
the  last  treaty.  The  Indian  orator  in  turn  assured  him,  that 
peace  was  what  they  desired  above  all  things,  and  in  lan¬ 
guage  as  poetical  as  it  was  false,  declared  that  “as  high  as 
the  sun  was  above  the  earth,  so  far  distant  should  their  de¬ 
signs  be  of  making  the  least  breach  between  them.”  Both 
parties  then  heaped  up  fresh  stones  upon  the  pillar  called  the 
Two  Brothers,  that  had  been  set  up  at  the  last  treaty,  and 


FORT  SAINT-LOUIS  AT  CAUGHNAWAGA  WITH  PRIEST’S  HOUSE  WHERE  JOHN 
SCHUYLER  SAW  EUNICE  AND  BEING  VERY  SORROWFUL  TOOK 
HER  BY  THE  HAND  AND  LEFT  HER 


EUNICE  WILLIAMS. 


133 


the  ceremonies  ended.  A  few  weeks  later,  Bomazeen  boasted 
that  though  several  missionaries  from  the  French  had  tried 
to  seduce  them  from  their  allegiance,  they  “were  as  firm  as 
the  mountains,  and  so  would  continue  as  long  as  the  sun  and 
moon  endured.” 

Truly  has  Penhallow  said,  “Their  voice  was  like  the  voice 
of  Jacob,  but  their  hands  like  the  hands  of  Esau,”  for  in  six 
weeks  after,  they  with  their  Canadian  allies,  set  the  whole 
country  in  flames.  New  York  was  protected  by  her  treaty 
with  the  Six  Nations,  and  the  whole  brunt  of  the  war  fell 
upon  Massachusetts  and  New  Hampshire.  Deerfield  being 
the  most  remote  settlement,  and  easy  of  access  from  Canada, 
was  especially  exposed.  It  had,  however,  a  watchful  sentinel 
at  its  outpost,  in  the  person  of  Col.  John  Schuyler  at  Albany, 
who  often  sent  intelligence  of  the  movements  of  the  enemy, 
and  thus  warded  off  the  danger.  A  mission  of  converted 
Mohawks,  (Iroquois,)  whom  the  Jesuits  had  persuaded  to  leave 
their  native  towns,  and  settle  on  the  St.  Lawrence  under  the 
wing  of  the  church,  had  at  this  time  a  fort  at  Saint-Louis,1 
now  Caughnawaga,  nine  miles  above  Montreal.  They  natu¬ 
rally  allied  themselves  with  the  French,  while  those  of  their 
tribe  who  remained  in  the  place  of  their  nativity,  came  un¬ 
der  the  sway  of  the  English.  The  praying  Indians  of  the  Mo¬ 
hawks,  whose  principal  village  was  at  Caughnawaga,  forty 
miles  distant  from  Albany,  were  in  the  habit  of  visit¬ 
ing  their  relatives  at  the  Saint-Louis  mission,  and  news  of 
the  threatened  attacks  upon  Deerfield,  was  frequently  brought 
by  them  to  Albany  on  their  return,  and  communicated  by 
Schuyler  to  the  authorities  in  New  England. 

In  the  autumn  following  the  conference  at  Casco,  Zebediah 

Williams,  and  John  Nims,  his  half  brother,  were  taken  from 

A  rf  '- 

'This  was  the  fourth  fort  built  on  the  St.  Lawrence  near  Montreal,  by  these 
praying  Mohawks.  A  part  of  its  walls,  so  familiar  to  Eunice  Williams  and 
other  New  England  captives,  is  still  to  be  seen. 


134 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


the  north  meadows  in  Deerfield  and  carried  to  Canada.  So 
impressed  was  the  Rev.  Mr.  Williams  with  a  presentiment  of 
the  danger  hovering  over  the  town,  that  both  in  the  pulpit 
and  out,  he  urged  the  utmost  vigilance  upon  his  people.  The 
old  fable  of  the  boy  and  the  wolf  was  acted  over  again,  and 
the  savage  foe,  stealing  from  the  forest  at  midnight  upon  the 
fold,  found  the  guardians  sleeping,  and  fell  with  rapine  and 
murder  upon  the  little  flock.  The  story  is  an  old  one  and 
needs  no  repetition  here.  But  who  can  tell  the  horror 
stamped  forever  upon  the  heart  and  brain  of  Eunice,  by  the 
sights  and  sounds  of  that  awful  night?  Suddenly  waked 
from  the  untroubled  sleep  of  childhood,  to  see  the  hideous 
faces  of  demons  bending  over  her;  dragged  by  bloody  hands 
from  her  warm  bed,  hurried  through  the  room  where  she 
sees  her  father,  bound  hand  and  foot,  helpless  to  protect  her, 
and  afraid  to  pity  lest  he  may  hasten  her  doom;  over  the 
door  stone,  where  her  little  brother  lies  dead,  and  by  his  side, 
gashed  and  bleeding,  the  faithful  black  woman,  whom  next 
to  their  mother,  they  loved ;  out  into  the  cold  winter  night, 
reddening  now  like  the  dawn,  in  the  glare  of  the  burning 
village,  and  so  to  the  church,  the  child  is  borne.  Pine  torches 
flaring  in  the  hands  of  the  dusky  warriors,  lighted  up  the 
scene  within.  The  enemy’s  wounded,  groaning  in  agony  on 
the  floor ;  old  men  praying  and  calling  on  God  for  deliver¬ 
ance  ;  women  speechless  and  despairing,  among  them  her 
mother  pale  and  wan  ;  her  playmates  shrieking  with  terror ; 
infants  wailing  with  cold  and  hunger ; — huddled  there  in 
woful  companionship,  while  the  mocking  fiends  completed 
the  work  of  destruction.  At  dawn,  the  shivering  captives 
began  their  weary  march.  The  impression  made  upon  the 
tender  mind  of  the  child,  by  the  dreadful  scenes  of  this  night 
and  the  twenty-five  succeeding  days,  may  explain  the  fact  of 
her  reluctance  to  return  to  the  home  of  which  she  had  re¬ 
tained  only  this  frightful  remembrance. 


EUNICE  WILLIAMS. 


135 


In  the  distribution  of  the  captives,  Eunice  fell  to  the  lot 
of  a  Mohawk  of  Saint-Louis.  Whether  her  beauty  pleased 
his  Indian  fancy,  or  her  forlorn  condition  melted  his  savage 
breast  to  pity,  it  is  certain  that  she  was  treated  with  more 
consideration  by  her  master,  than  her  companions  were  by 
theirs.  When  her  little  feet  were  weary,  he  lifted  her  to  his 
brawny  shoulder,  or  bore  her  tenderly  in  his  arms.  Wrap¬ 
ping  her  warmly  in  his  blanket,  he  drew  her  on  a  sledge 
over  the  icy  rivers,  spread  her  bed  softly  with  thick  hemlock 
boughs  when  they  camped  at  night,  and  selected  the  choicest 
morsels  from  his  hunting  for  her  food,  often  stinting  himself 
that  she  might  have  the  more.  Seeing  her  playmates  butch¬ 
ered  in  cold  blood  by  their  cruel  masters  on  that  fearful 
journey,  the  little  innocent  clung  to  her  protector  with  the 
trustfulness  of  childhood,  and  the  two  strange  companions 
learned  to  love  each  other  well.  On  their  arrival  in  Canada, 
she  was  carried  at  once  to  his  home,  and  thus  separated  en¬ 
tirely  from  her  family.  At  the  earnest  prayer  of  her  father, 
who  was  at  Montreal,  the  governor  sent  a  priest  with  him  to 
endeavor  for  her  ransom.  But  the  Jesuit  at  the  Saint-Louis 
mission  would  not  permit  Mr.  Williams  to  enter  the  fort,  as¬ 
suring  him  that  it  would  be  labor  lost,  for  the  Macquas 
would  part  with  their  hearts  sooner  than  with  his  child.  Ac¬ 
companied  by  the  governor,  Mr.  Williams  finally  obtained 
an  interview  with  Eunice,  who  with  sobs  and  tears  begged 
and  pleaded  that  he  would  take  her  away  from  that  dreadful 
place.  Soothing  her  as  well  as  he  could,  though  her  sorrow 
must  have  rent  his  heart,  her  father  heard  her  say  her  Cate¬ 
chism  and  told  her  she  must  pray  to  God  every  day.  The 
seven  years  old  child  assured  him  that  she  had  not  once 
omitted  to  do  so,  “but,”  said  she,  “a  wicked  man  in  a  long 
black  gown  comes  every  day,  and  makes  me  say  some  Latin 
prayers  which  I  cannot  understand,  but  I  hope  it  may  do  me 
no  harm.”  She  told  him  how  the  savages  profaned  the  Sab- 


136  TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


bath,  and  promised  him  that  she  would  always  keep  it  holy. 
For  a  few  minutes  again  before  his  release,  Mr.  Williams 
was  permitted  to  converse  with  his  daughter.  The  Gover¬ 
nor’s  wife,  seeing  his  deep-seated  melancholy  on  her  account, 
had  Eunice  brought  to  Montreal,  where  she  told  him  of  the 
methods  used  to  drive  heretic  children  to  the  bosom  of  the 
mother  church. 

It  is  a  mournful  picture.  The  Jesuit  with  his  slouched  hat 
looped  up  at  the  sides,  in  a  long  black  cassock,  a  rosary  at  his 
waist,  and  a  scourge  in  his  hand.  The  timid  English  girl, 
scion  of  a  grand  old  Puritan  stock,  cowering  in  abject  terror 
on  her  knees  before  him.  Rebaptized  Margaret,  with  the 
sign  of  the  cross  on  her  brow  and  bosom,  Eunice  is  alternate¬ 
ly  threatened  with  punishment  and  allured  with  promises. 
She  is  told  tales  of  her  father’s  conversion,  frightened  with 
pictures  of  fiends  tormenting  the  souls  of  little  children,  and 
beaten  for  refusing  to  make  the  sign  of  the  cross.  All  offers 
of  ransom  were  refused  for  her,  and  when  she  entreated  to 
be  allowed  to  go  home,  she  was  told  that  if  she  went  she 
would  be  damned  and  burned  in  hell  forever,  a  threat  terri¬ 
ble  to  the  ears  of  a  child  bred  in  the  Puritanic  fear  of  the  ev. 
erlasting  fire.  Fond  as  her  Indian  master  was  of  her,  he  was 
powerless  to  protect  her  from  these  cruelties.  While  he  did 
not  deny  the  justice  of  the  claims  made  for  the  restoration 
of  the  prisoner,  he  always  asserted  that  he  could  not  release 
her  without  an  order  from  the  governor,  whose  subject  he 
was.  On  the  other  hand,  the  governor  pleaded  his  fear  of 
the  king’s  displeasure,  lamented  his  want  of  authority  to 
command  the  Indians,  who,  he  said,  were  his  allies  and  not 
his  subjects.  The  priests,  appealed  to  as  a  last  resource, 
scornfully  repelled  the  implied  suspicion,  and  declared  that 
humanity  forbade  them  to  interfere  to  separate  the  child 
against  her  will,  from  the  master  whom  she  loved  as  her  father. 

After  the  blow  fell  upon  the  devoted  town  of  Deerfield, 


EUNICE  WILLIAMS 


137 


Schuyler  did  not  relax  his  efforts  to  protect  New  England. 
He  openly  protested  against  the  maintenance  of  neutrality 
in  New  York,  whereby  the  marauders  passed  unmolested, 
to  attack  the  people  of  Massachusetts;  and  remonstrating  in 
their  name  with  the  Governor  of  Canada,  he  said,  he  had 
thought  it  his  “duty  to  God  and  man  to  prevent  as  far  as  pos¬ 
sible,  the  infliction  of  such  cruelties  as  had  too  often  been 
committed  on  the  unfortunate  colonists.”  In  all  negotiations 
for  the  redemption  of  English  captives  he  was  especially  act¬ 
ive.  He  sent  out  friendly  Indians  as  scouts  into  the  enemy’s 
country,  and  reported  faithfully  to  our  governor  all  that  he 
could  learn  of  the  designs  of  their  captors  in  regard  to  them. 
He  was  much  interested  in  the  restoration  of  Eunice,  and  all 
that  we  know  of  her  condition  after  her  father’s  release  is 
gleaned  from  hints  in  his  correspondence.  In  a  letter  to 
Col.  Partridge,  commanding  at  Hatfield,  dated  Feb,  18,  1706-7, 

he  says,  “As  to  Mr.  Williams  Daughter,  our  spies . are 

returned,  who  as  they  were  hunting,  saw  Mr.  Williams  daugh¬ 
ter  wth  the  Indian  who  ownes  her.  She  is  in  good  health, 
but  seemes  unwilling  to  returne,  and  the  Indian  not  very  will¬ 
ing  to  part  with  her,  she  being,  as  he  says,  a  pritty  girl  but 
perhapps  he  may  Exchange  her  if  he  can  gett  a  very  pritty 
Indian  in  her  Rome,  which  he  must  first  see,  you  may  assure 
Mr.  Williams  I  will  do  all  that  lays  in  my  power  to  serve 
him,  as  I  have  formally  wrott  to  him, -and  indeed  to  all  others 
that  are  prisoners.”  In  conclusion,  after  notifying  Col.  Par¬ 
tridge  of  certain  movements  of  the  enemy,  he  says:  “I  wish 
you  and  us  may  be  all  on  our  guard,  and  God  preserve  us  all 
from  such  bloody  enemies.”  In  another  letter  to  Partridge1 
on  the  nth  of  August,  1707,  he  notices  the  return  of  two 
trusty  Indians  whom  he  had  sent  as  “spys”  to  Caughnawaga 

JThis  letter  was  sent  by  Sam’l  Doxy,  who  had  gone  from  New  England  to 
Albany.  In  it  he  calls  Caughnawaga  “a  Castle  belonging  to  ye  French  praying 
Macquas  neer  to  Prary  [La  PrairieJ  in  Canada.” 


133 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


in  Canada,  and  who  reported  a  party  of  the  enemy  at  Otter 
Creek  on  their  way  to  New  England,  and  also  “that  they  see 
Deaken  Sheldon  of  Deerfield  at  Montreal,  who  walked  the 
streets,  but  was  told  he  was  deteind  and  had  not  liberty  to 
goe  home.”  Schuyler  adds,  “Do  be  on  your  guard  to  pre¬ 
vent  your  people  from  falling  into  the  hands  of  these 
bloody  savages;  but  I  cannot  enlarge,  for  I  will  have  the  mes¬ 
senger  ride  this  night,  and  it  is  now  ten  o’clock.” 

Mr.  Sheldon  went  at  least  three  times  to  Canada,  in  behalf 
of  Eunice  and  others,  and  on  the  above  occasion  was  not  al¬ 
lowed  to  return,  there  being  another  expedition  on  foot 
against  the  English.  Deacon  Sheldon’s  kind  offices  seem  to 
have  produced  some  relenting  in  the  heart  of  Eunice’s  mas¬ 
ter,  for  I  have  before  me  a  letter  written  from  her  cousin  in 
Northampton,  to  her  brother  in  Roxbury,  dated  Aug.  4,  1707, 
which  says,  “A  post  came  from  Albany  last  Saturday  night, 
that  brought  letters  from  Canada,  also  a  letter  from  Albany, 
that  saith,  ‘Ye  Indian,  Eunice’s  master,  saith  he  will  bring 
her  in  within  two  months.’  ” 

One  can  picture  the  quiet  little  village  on  that  Saturday 
night.  All  work  laid  aside,  the  Puritan  Sabbath  already 
begun;  the  pious  psalms  of  the  different  households  borne  out 
upon  the  summer  air,  and  perhaps  the  solemn  voice  of  the 
pastor,  as  with  the  remnant  of  his  once  happy  family,  he 
prays  for  the  return  of  the  captive  still  languishing  in  chains 
afar;  the  sound  of  horse’s  hoofs,  as  the  messenger  rides  post 
from  Albany,  sent  by  Peter  Schuyler  to  announce  that 
Eunice’s  master  will  bring  her  within  two  months;  the  stir 
in  the  village,  as  the  glad  tidings  spreads  from  house  to 
house.  Hope  beating  high  in  the  bosoms  of  some,  with  the 
thought  that  now,  perhaps,  they  may  rejoin  their  beloved 
ones,  long  since  torn  from  them  by  a  fate  more  cruel  than 
death;  sorrow  in  some  at  the  renewed  remembrance  of  those 
that  can  never  return. 


EUNICE  WILLIAMS. 


139 


Saddest  of  all  is  the  remembrance  of  the  ten  years  old 
girl  at  Caughnawaga,  in  the  wigwam  of  her  master.  It  is  al¬ 
ways  her  master  and  never  a  hint  that  any,  even  of  the  rud¬ 
est  of  her  sex,  surround  her.  She  may  have  heard  that  he 
has  promised  at  last  to  take  her  home,  and  perhaps  begs  him 
with  tears  not  to  wait,  but  to  go  at  once.  He  tells  her,  per¬ 
haps,  that  her  father  has  ceased  to  care  for  her,  that  he  has 
left  her  alone,  and  taken  her  brothers  and  sister  home  with 
him;  that  her  mother  is  dead  and  her  father  has  a  new  wife, 
who  will  beat  her  if  she  goes  home;  that  she  is  to  stay  with 
him,  till  some  young  brave  claims  her  as  his  squaw.  It  may 
be  that  she  still  weeps  obstinately,  and  that  he  drags  her  to 
the  priest,  to  be  terrified  into  obedience. 

The  two  months  pass,  and  no  tidings  yet  of  Eunice  at  Al¬ 
bany.  Seven  years  elapse;  seven  weary  years  of  alternate 
hope  and  despair  since  her  capture,— when,  one  summer 
morning,  a  strange  visitor  ascends  the  broad  steps  of  the  old 
Province  House  in  Boston.  She  glides  through  the  spacious 
doorway  and  into  the  grand  reception  room,  where  she  gazes 
about  her  with  a  half  frightened,  half  curious  air.  The  gov¬ 
ernor  is  there  with  several  gentlemen.  “Who  is  she?  What 
does  she  want?”  he  asks.  “An  Abenaki  squaw,”  the  usher 
replies,  “who  demands  her  children,  captured  by  the  English 
some  time  since,  and  now  in  Boston.”  A  thought  strikes 
the  governor.  He  will  exchange  the  children  of  this  wom¬ 
an  for  Eunice.  An  interpreter  is  sent  for.  “The  white  man’s 
axe  is  laid  at  the  foot  of  the  forest  tree,”  says  the  Abenaki, 
“its  branches  are  lopped  away  and  it  will  soon  die.”  The 
pappooses  are  brought,  and  while  the  mother  fondles  her 
young  in  savage  fashion,  the  interpreter  answers  for  the  gov¬ 
ernor.  “Among  the  hills,”  he  says,  “a  shepherd  fed  his 
peaceful  flock,  when  a  wolf  sprang  upon  them,  and  some 
were  killed,  and  others  driven  far  away.  Day  and  night  the 
shepherd  grieves  for  the  youngling  of  his  flock,  gone  astray. 


140 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


In  the  north  the  white  lamb  bleats,  but  cannot  find  her  way- 
back.  Let  the  Abenaki  bring  her  back  to  the  shepherd,  the 
white  chief  says,  and  her  pappooses  shall  be  restored  to  her; 
the  branches  shall  be  safe  and  the  forest  tree  shall  live 
again.”  “One  touch  of  nature  makes  the  whole  world  kin.” 
“The  Abenaki  knows  where  the  white  lamb  is  hid.  She  will 
go,  and  before  so  many  moons  are  gone,  the  shepherd  shall 
have  his  own  again.”  Another  fierce  embrace  of  her  chil¬ 
dren,  and  the  squaw  strides  forth  into  the  wilderness.  How 
she  sped  on  her  quest,  is  shown  by  the  following  extract 
from  a  letter  in  our  archives,  written  by  Father  Meriel  in 
Canada,  to  Mr.  Johnson  Harmon1  at  Shamblee: 

2  “Montreal,  June  26,  1711. 

Sir  : 

Since  you  are  gone,  a  squaw  of  the  nation  of  the 
Abnakis  is  come  in  from  Boston.  She  has  a  pass  from  your  Gov- 
ernour.  She  goes  about  getting  a  little  girl  daughter  of  Mr.  John 
Williams.  The  Lord  Marquis  of  Vaudreuil  helps  her  as  he  can. 
The  business  is  very  hard  because  the  girl  belongs  to  Indians  of 
another  sort,  and  the  master  of  the  English  girl  is  now  at  Albany. 
You  may  tell  your  Governour  that  the  squaw  can’t  be  at  Boston  at 
the  time  appointed,  and  that  she  desires  him  not  to  be  impatient 
for  her  return,  and  meanwhile  to  take  good  care  of  her  two  papows. 
The  same  Lord  chief  Governor  of  Canada,  has  insured  me  in  case 
she  may  not  prevail  with  the  Mohoggs  for  Eunice  Williams,  he  shall 
send  home  four  English  persons  in  his  power  for  an  Exchange  in 
the  Room  of  the  two  Indian  children.  You  see  well,  Sir,  your  Gov¬ 
ernour  must  not  disregard  such  a  generous  proffer  as  according  to 
his  noble  birth  and  obliging  genious  Ours  makes.  Else  he  would 
betray  little  affection  to  his  own  people.” . 

’Johnson  Harmon  of  York,  Maine,  is  on  a  "List  of  Captives  still  in  the 
hands  of  the  French  and  Indians  at  Canada  given  to  Mr.  Vaudruille’s  messen¬ 
gers,”  and  dated  1710-11.  Mass.  Archives,  Vol.  71. 

5  Mass.  Archives,  Vol.  51,  p.  212.  See  Appendix. 


1 


f 


EUNICE  WILLIAMS. 


141 


Again  Deerfield  is  agitated  with  rumors  of  the  speedy  re¬ 
covery  of  Eunice  Williams.  Hope  again  visits  the  heart  of 
her  unhappy  father,  to  be  again  dispelled  by  disappoint¬ 
ment. 

In  a  letter  to  the  French  governor,  dated  Nov.  10,  1712, 
Dudley,  impatient  of  the  delay,  says  :  “I  have  in  my  Keeping 
one  Indian  sachem  of  Quebeck,  one  other  sachem  of  your 
Indians  near  in  blood  and  kindred  to  the  woman  that  has  Mr. 
Williams’s  daughter,  which  I  will  exchange  for  her, — or  oth¬ 
erwise  I  will  never  set  them  free.” 

Meantime,  having  notified  Schuyler  of  his  interview  with 
the  Abenaqui  squaw,  and  warned  him  to  keep  a  sharp  look¬ 
out  for  her  return,  he  receives  at  last  the  following  letter 
from  Peter  Schuyler  : 

‘ 1  May  it  please  your  Excellency , 

Yor  Excellency’s  Letters 
of  ye  6th  and  10th  Currant  for  Expresse  have  Received  togather  with 
five  letters  for  Monsr  Vaudreuil  gov1'  of  C.anida  which  have  deliver1* 
to  ye  french  officer  Dayeville1  who  goes  from  hence  ye  [19J  Instant 
&  have  taken  his  Receipt  for  three  Letters  as  you  Designed  which 
is  here  Inclosed  as  to  what  your  Excellency  mentions  Relating  to 
Mr.  Williams  his  doghter,  the  squaw  nor  she  is  not  come  her  yet 
nor  have  I  heard  anything  of  her  Coming  altho  I  shall  be  very  glad 
to  see  them  and  do  assure  your  Excellency  If  they  come  together 
or  be  it  ye  squaw  alone  I  shall  use  all  possible  meanes  to  get  the 
child  exchanged  Either  as  your  Excellency  proposes  or  what  other 
way  the  squaw  will  be  most  willing  to  Comply  with.  In  the  mean¬ 
time  shall  Inform  my  Selfe  by  all  opportunities  whether  the  said 
Squaw  &  Child  be  coming  here  or  if  they  be  anywhere  near  by. 
Your  Excellency  may  depend  that  whatever  I  can  do  for  ye  obtain- 

'This  is  Jean  Baptiste  Dageuille,  Sergeant  in  the  company  of  M.  de  la  For¬ 
est,  who  on  May  26,  1711,  at  the  age  of  twenty-six,  married  the  captive  Marie 
Priscille  Storer,  daughter  of  Jeremiah  and  Ruth  [Masters]  Storer  of  Wells. 
Maine. 


142 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


ing  of  ye  sd  Child  shall  at  no  time  be  wanting.  So  shall  take  leave 
to  subscribe  my  Selfe 

Your  Excellency3 

Most  humble  &  Obedient 

Servant 

P.  Schuyler. 

Albany,  Dec.  19,  (?)  1712.” 

Accompanying  this  letter  in  our  Archives,  is  the  following  : 

“Received  of  Coll.  P.  Schuyler,  three  French  letters  sent  him  from 
Governor  Dudley,  directed  to  Monsr  Vaudreiul,  govern’r  in  Canada 
which  Letters  I  promise  carefully  to  Convey  &  Deliver  to  ye  said 
Govern1,  in  Canada  as  soon  as  I  shall  arrive  there  witness  my  hand 
this  19th  December  1712 

[Signed]  Dageuille.1” 

Father  Meriel  had  written  that  the  French  governor  would 
give  four  English  captives  in  exchange  for  the  two  Abenaqui 
pappooses.  It  had  now  become  evident  that  he  would  not 
give  one  ;  that  one  being  Eunice  Williams. 

Months  later  than  the  date  of  Schuyler’s  letter,  and  the  re¬ 
turn  of  Dageuille  to  Canada,  the  squaw  appeared  alone  at 
Albany.  The  same  old  story  is  repeated.  The  child  Eunice 
refuses  to  leave  her  master.  He  is  loath  to  compel  her. 
Such  influence  is  brought  to  bear  upon  Dudley,  that  he  dares 
not  reject  the  offer  of  the  Canadian  government.  Four  New 
England  households  are  made  happy  by  the  return  of  their 
beloved  ones ;  the  squaw  and  her  babies  are  sent  home  ;  but 
Eunice  Williams,  the  child  of  so  many  prayers,  the  object  of 
the  solicitude  of  so  many  sorrowing  hearts,  the  coveted  prize 
of  two  governments,  is  still  a  helpless  captive. 

In  the  spring  of  1713,  John  Schuyler,  impatient  of  the  long 
suspense,  and  fully  confident  of  his  own  ability  to  mediate 
effectually  between  the  two  powers,  undertook  the  weary 

!It  is  an  interesting  fact,  that  Frenchmen  who  had  married  our  captives, 
were  often  sent  to  New  England,  as  ambassadors  from  the  Canadian  govern¬ 
ment. 


EUNICE  WILLIAMS. 


H3 


journey  to  Canada.  His  letter1  to  Governor  Dudley  explains 
itself : 

“ May  it  please  your  Excellency: — 

I  thought  it  my  duty  im¬ 
mediately  w’thout  any  further  Omission,  to  signify  to  Your  Excel¬ 
lency  my  return  from  Mont  Reall  to  Albany,  upon  ye  15th  of  this 
instant  June  with  Monsr  Bolock  and  three  more,  and  nine  prisoners, 
a  list  of  their  names  is  herein  inclosed.2  I  sett  them  forward  for 
New  England  with  Samel  Ashly  and  Daniell  Bagg  upon  the  icoth 
instant.  I  have  not  herein  incerted  the  charges;  by  reason  I  cann1 
make  up  the  Accts  till  ye  officers  return  to  Canada;  I  have  likewise 
enclosd  for  Yor  Excellency  my  Memoriall  that  touches  the  concern 
of  ye  Reva  Mr  Williams  ye  Minister  at  Dearfeild  for  his  Daughter. 
My  indefatigueable  Pains  therein  came  to  no  purpose.  If  yr  Ex¬ 
cellency  hath  the  Returns  of  peace  I  hope  to  receive  them;  and  then 
shall  dispatch  them  away  as  directed.  I  found  a  great  fatigue  in 
my  Journey  to  and  from  Canada  and  waded  through  many  Difficul¬ 
ties  in  ye  way  wth  the  Prisonirs  To  Dilate  thereon  would  be  prolix. 
I  now  beg  leave  to  assure  your  Excellency  of  my  Effection  and  Zeal 
to  every  yor  Commands  and  that  in  all  Sincerity  I  am  May  it  Please 
Yor  Excelly 

Yor  most  obedient  humble  Serv1 

John  Schuyler. 

Albany  June  ye 
18th  1713” 

The  memorial  accompanying-  this  letter  is  a  remarkable 
State  Paper.  The  writer’s  sanguine  hope,  after  his  confer¬ 
ence  with  the  fair-spoken  De  Vaudreuil ;  his  indignation  at 
the  iniquitous  marriage,  calmed  by  the  explanation  of  the 
priest ;  his  gentle  and  chivalrous  reception  of  the  girl  bride  ; 

'Mass.  Archives,  Vol  II,  p.  468. 

‘2Hertel  de  Beaulac,  brother  of  Hertel  de  Rouville,  in  command  of  a  guard 
of  three  soldiers,  escorted  Schuyler  and  the  nine  captives  to  Albany.  The  list 
does  not  appear. 


144 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


his  patient  and  repeated  pleading  with  her  to  return  to  her 
afflicted  father  ;  his  unrestrained  anger  at  her  continued  ob¬ 
stinacy  ;  and  the  silent  grief  which  overwhelms  him  at  the 
thought  of  his  fruitless  mission,  as  he  leaves  her  to  her  In¬ 
dian  lord; — all  are  told  with  a  simple  pathos,  to  which  the 
words  of  another  cannot  do  justice.  It  is  therefore  given 
entire. 

“A  true  and  perfect  Memoriall  of  my  proceedings  Jn  behalf  of 
Margarett  Williams  now  Captive  amongst  ye  Jndians  at  the  ffort  of 
Caghenewaga  Jn  Canada,  Insisting  upon  her  Reliese  and  to  persuade 
her  to  go  home  to  her  father  and  Native  Countrey,  it  being  upon  the 
instant  and  earnest  desire  of  her  ffather  now  Minister  at  Dearfeild 
in  New  England.  J  arrived  from  Albany  at  Mont  Reall  on  ye  15th 
of  Aprill  last,  1713,  Where  J  understood  y1  Monsr  de  Vaudruille, 
Govern1-  and  chief  of  Canada,  was  expected  then  every  day  from 
Quebeck.  Upon  which  J  thought  proper  not  to  mention  anything 
touching  the  aforesaid  Captive,  untill  his  Excellency  should  be  here 
himself:  and  accordingly  when  he  arrived  here  J  propos’d  the  mat¬ 
ter  to  him,  who  gave  me  all  the  Encouragem1  J  could  immagine 
for  her  to  go  home,  he  also  permitted  me  to  go  to  her  at  the  ffort, 
where  she  was,  to  prepare  if  J  could  persuade  her  to  go  home. 
Moreover,  his  Excellency  said,  that  wth  all  his  heart,  he  would  give 
a  hundred  Crowns  out  of  his  own  pockett,  if  that  she  might  be  per¬ 
suaded  to  go  to  her  Native  Countrey:  J  observing  all  this,  then  was 
in  hopes  J  should  prevaile  with  her  to  go  home.  Accordingly  J 
went  to  the  ffort  at  Caghenewaga,  being  accompanied  by  one  of  the 
King’s  Officers  and  a  ffrench  Interpreter,  likewise  another  of  the  In¬ 
dian  Language  Being  upon  the  26  Day  of  May.  Entring  at  the  In¬ 
dian  ffort  J  thought  fitt  first  to  apply  mySelf  to  the  priests  ;  As  J 
did,  Being  two  in  Company,  And  was  informed  before  that  this  in¬ 
fant  (As  J  may  say)  was  married  to  a  young  Jndiftn,  J  therefore  pro¬ 
posed  to  know  the  Reason  why  this  poor  Captive  should  be  Married 
to  an  Jndian,  being  a  Christian  Born  (tho  neerly  taken  from  the 
Mother’s  Breast  and  such  like  Instances  &c)  Whereupon  the  priest 
Sett  forth  to  me  Such  good  Reasons  wth  Witnesses  that  mySelf,  or 


i 


\ 


EUNICE  WILLIAMS. 


145 


any  other  person  (as  J  believe)  could  fairly  make  Objection  against 
their  Marriage;  (First,  sd  he  they  came  to  me  to  Marry  them)  very 
often  wch  J  always  refus’d  with  good  words  and  persuasions  to  the 
Contrary,  But  both  continuing  in  their  former  resolution  to  Such  a 
Degree  that  J  was  constrained  to  be  absent  from  ye  ffort  three  Sev- 
erall  times,  because  not  Satisfyed  mySelf  in  their  Marriage  ;  Untill 
at  last  after  Some  days  past  they  both  came  to  me,  and  sd  that  they 
were  Joined  together.  And  if  he  would  not  marry  them  they  matter’d 
not,  for  they  were  resolved  never  to  leave  one  the  other.  But  live 
together  heathen  like  ;  Upon  wch  J  thought  proper  to  Join  them  in 
Matrimony  and  Such  like  Reasons  as  aforesaid  the  priest  did  plainly 
Sett  forth  and  after  some  further  discourse,  J  desired  the  priest,  to 
let  me  see  her  at  his  house,  ffor  J  knew  not  where  to  find  her  upon 
which  he  sent  for  her,  who  prsently  came  with  the  Indian  she  was 
Married  to  both  together  She  looking  very  poor  in  body,  bashfull 
in  the  face  but  proved  harder  than  Steel  in  her  breast,  at  her  first 
Entrance  into  the  Room  J  desired  her  to  sitt  down,  wch  she  did,  J 
first  Spoak  to  her  in  English,  Upon  wch  she  did  not  Answr  me; 
And  J  believe  She  did  not  understand  me,  she  being  very  Young 
when  she  was  taken,  And  liveing  always  amongst  the  Jndians  after¬ 
wards,  J  Jmployed  my  Indian  Languister  to  talk  to  her;  informing 
him  first  by  the  ffrench  Jnterpreter,  who  understood  the  English 
Language,  What  he  should  tell  her  and  what  Questions  he  should 
Ask  her  Accordingly  he  did  J  understood  amost  all  what  he  said 
to  her;  And  found  that  he  Spoak  according  to  my  Order,  but  could 
not  gett  one  word  from  her.  Upon  which  J  desired  the  priest  To 
Speak  to  her,  And  if  J  could  not  prevaile  wth  her  to  go  home  to  Stay 
there,  that  She  might  only  go  to  see  her  ffather,  And  directly  return 
hither  again,  The  priest  made  a  long  Speech  to  her  and  endeavored 
to  persuade  her  to  go,  but  after  almost  half  an  hours  discourse — 
could  not  get  one  word  from  her;  And  afterwards  when  he  found 
She  did  not  Speak,  he  again  Endeavoured  to  persuade  her  to  go  and 
see  her  ffather  And  J  seeing  She  continued  unpersuadable  to  speak ; 
J  promised  upon  my  Word  and  honour,  if  she  would  go  only  to  see 
her  ffather,  J  would  convey  her  to  New  England  and  give  her  As- 
sureance  of  liberty  to  return  if  she  pleased — the  priest  asked  her 


146  TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


Severall  times  for  answer  upon  this,  my  earnest  request  And  fair 
offers  wch  was  after  long  Solicitations  zaghte  oghte  which  words 
being  translated  into  the  English  Tongue,  their  Signifycation  is  may 
be  not\  but  the  meaning  thereof  amongst  the  Jndians  is  a  plaine 
denyall,  and  these  words  were  all  we  could  gett  from  her;  in  allmost 
two  hours  time  that  we  talked  with  her.  Upon  this  my  eyes  being 
allmost  filled  with  tears,  J  said  to  her  mySelf.  had  J  made  such  pro¬ 
posals  and  prayings  to  the  worst  of  Jndians  J  did  not  doubt  but 
have  had  a  reasonable  Answere  and  consent  to  what  J  had  sd.  Up¬ 
on  woh  her  husband  seeing  that  J  was  so  much  concerned  about 
her  replyed  had  her  ffather  not  Married  againe  She  would  have  gone 
and  Seen  him  long  Ere  this  time,  But  gave  no  further  reason  and 
the  time  growing  late  and  J  being  very  Sorrowfull  that  J  could  not 
prevail  upon  nor  get  one  word  more  from  her,  J  took  her  by  the 
hand  and  left  her  in  the  priest’s  house.  John  Schuyler.” 

De  Vaudreuil  sent  a  letter  to  Dudley  by  Schuyler,  on  his 
return,  in  which  he  says,  “Colonel  John  Schuyler,  to  whom 

I  have  caused  to  be  delivered  nine  of  your  captives, . 

will  tell  you  in  what  manner  Mr.  Williams’s  daughter  received 
him,  and  how  he  could  never  oblige  her  to  promise  him  any¬ 
thing  but  that  she  would  go  to  see  her  father,  as  soon  as 
peace  should  be  proclaimed.  I  am  surprised  at  the  little  jus¬ 
tice  you  do  me  in  what  you  say  to  me  about  the  marriage  of 
that  girl  with  a  savage  of  the  Sault.1  I  am  much  more  cha¬ 
grined  at  this  than  you  are,  on  account  of  her  father  for 
whom  I  have  absolute  respect ;  but  not  being  able  to  foresee 
this,  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  prevent  it.” 

Schuyler’s  ill  success  did  not  prevent  further  efforts  for 
the  redemption  of  Eunice.  On  the  27th  of  June,  1713,  short¬ 
ly  after  the  receipt  of  the  above  memorial,  Governor  Dudley 
writing  to  congratulate  the  Governor  of  Canada  upon  the  re¬ 
turn  of  peace  acknowledges  the  receipt  of  his  letter  of  the 
12th  inst.  and  acquaints  him  of  the  arrival  of  “John  Schuyler 


‘Saint-Louis.  [Caughnawaga.] 


EUNICE  WILLIAMS. 


147 


and  the  nine  English  prisoners  that  accompanied  him  being 
far  short  of  the  number  I  justly  expected  should  have  been 
returned  me  ;  who  would  doubtless  have  been  very  forward 
to  have  come  home,  had  they  been  allowed  soe  to  doe  when 
I  have  long  since  dismissed  and  transported  at  their  own  De¬ 
sire  and  Choice,  at  my  charge,  all  the  French  prisoners  that 
were  in  my  hands,  and  am  in  the  hourly  expectation  of  re¬ 
ceiving  an  order  directed  to  yourself  from  the  Court  of 
France,  requiring  the  same  on  your  part  (a  copy  of  which  I 
have  now  in  my  hands),  I  have  no  satisfactory  explanation 
to  my  complaint  of  the  treatment  of  the  Reverend  Mr.  Wil¬ 
liams’s  daughter,  referring  to  her  marriage  with  a  Salvage, 
and  the  unaccountable  detention  of  her.  She  is  to  be  con¬ 
sidered  as  a  minor  within  ye  age  of  consent  to  make  choice 
for  herselfe  being  carryd  away  early  in  her  infancy  before 
she  had  discretion  to  judge  of  things  for  her  own  good.  I 
hope  you  will  interfere  with  all  good  offices  to  free  her  from 
the  Impositions  made  on  her  tender  years,  that  she  may  be 
rescued  from  those  miseries  she  is  thoroughly  obnoxious  to, 
and  restored  to  her  father.”  Dudley  adds,  that  immediately 
upon  the  receipt  of  the  order  from  the  French  King,  for  the 
release  of  the  captives  he  “shall  put  that  affair  into  such  a 
disposition  that  I  may  be  provided  to  transport  and  fetch 
home  my  people  :  and  I  desire  you  will  cause  them  to  be 
drawn  near  together,  that  the  messengers  I  shall  employ  on 
that  service  may  easily  and  speedily  come  at  speech  with 
them.” 

The  order  above  alluded  to  having  been  received,  Commis¬ 
sioners  were  sent  by  Gov.  Dudley  to  Canada,  to  negotiate  the 
redemption  of  Eunice  and  the  other  New  England  prison¬ 
ers.  At  the  head  of  the  Commission  was  Capt.  John  Stod¬ 
dard,  son  of  the  Rev.  Solomon  Stoddard,  second  minister  of 
Northampton  and  second  husband  of  Eunice’s  grandmother 
Mather.  Capt.  Stoddard’s  journal,  printed  from  the  original 


148 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


manuscript,  is  before  me,  and  though  it  contains  little  per¬ 
taining  especially  to  Eunice,  it  gives  us  a  clue  to  so  much  of 
the  romantic  story  of  some  other  captives,  that  the  substance 
of  it  is  here  given. 

On  the  5th  of  November,  1713,  Capt.  Stoddard,  accompan¬ 
ied  by  Eunice’s  father,  set  out  from  Boston,  reaching  North¬ 
ampton  on  the  9th.  Here  they  were  joined  by  Capt.  Thomas 
Baker,  Martin  Kellogg  and  two  others.  Baker  and  Kellogg 
had  both  been  carried  captive  with  Eunice  to  Canada,  whence 
the  former  had  almost  succeeded  in  escaping,  but  was  recap¬ 
tured  and  sentenced  to  the  stake.  The  fire  was  already 
lighted,  when  with  a  bold  dash  he  broke  from  his  captors, 
and  sought  refuge  in  the  house  of  one  LeCair,  a  Frenchman, 
who  bought  him  of  the  Indians  for  five  pounds.  The  gov¬ 
ernor  hearing  of  his  attempt,  put  him  in  irons  and  kept  him 
four  months  closely  confined.  When  again  at  large,  he,  with 
Kellogg,  Joseph  Petty  and  John  Nims,  all  Deerfield  men, 
made  his  escape  in  1705.  Their  sufferings  on  the  way 
home  were  dreadful.  Exhausted  with  fatigue  and  hunger, 
they  fell  upon  their  knees  and  prayed  fervently  for  deliver¬ 
ance,  when  a  great  white  bird  appeared  to  them,  such  as 
they  had  never  seen  before.1  The  despairing  men  eagerly 
seized  and  tore  it  in  pieces,  ate  its  quivering  flesh  and  drank 
the  warm  blood,  revived  by  which  they  finally  reached  Deer¬ 
field  in  safety. 

By  way  of  Westfield  and  Kinderhook,  Stoddard  and  his 
party  on  horseback,  reached  Albany  in  four  days  from  North¬ 
ampton.  Detained  in  Albany  by  a  thaw  which  rendered  the 
river  impassable,  they  at  last  resumed  their  journey  on  the 
22d  of  January,  by  way  of  Saratoga  and  Crown  Point.  Some¬ 
times  on  snow-shoes,  sometimes  in  canoes,  and  sometimes 

'According  to  tradition  this  bird  was  an  owl.  Petty’s  own  account  of  his 
escape,  now  in  Memorial  Hall,  Deerfield,  transforms  this  owl  into  a  turtle.  See 
also  Sheldon’s  Hist.  Deerfield,  p.  354. 


EUNICE  WILLIAMS. 


I49 


running  on  the  frozen  rivers,  they  reached  Chambly,  whence 
they  were  conveyed  in  “  carryalls  ”  1  to  Quebec,  arriving  there 
on  the  1 6th  of  January. 

The  next  day,  they  presented  their  credentials  to  the  gov¬ 
ernor  and  demanded  the  prisoners.  De  Vaudreuil  gives 
them  his  word  of  honor  as  a  gentleman  and  an  officer,  that 
all  prisoners  shall  have  full  liberty  to  return,  and  with  great 
condescension  promises  his  blessing  to  all  who  will  go.  He 
tells  the  commissioners  to  go  freely  among  the  prisoners,  and 
to  send  for  them  to  their  lodgings.  Much  pleased  with  their 
reception,  and  full  of  the  hope  of  soon  regaining  their  long- 
lost  relatives,  they  take  their  leave.  Hearing  soon,  however, 
that  the  priests  and  some  of  the  laity  are  practising  to  pre¬ 
vent  the  return  of  the  prisoners,  they  complain  by  letter  to 
the  governor,  to  which  he  replies  that  he  “can  as  easily  alter 
the  course  of  the  waters  as  prevent  the  priests’  endeavors,” 
adding  that  upon  reflection  he  cannot  grant  liberty  to  return 
to  those  of  the  English  who  are  naturalized,  but  only  to  such 
as  are  under  age.  They  answer  with  clear  and  cogent  argu¬ 
ments,  against  the  naturalization  pretext,  and  expose  its  in¬ 
consistency  with  De  Vaudreuil’s  oft-repeated  declaration  that 
he  did  not  care  how  few  English  stayed  in  Canada,  the  few¬ 
er  the  better  for  him  and  the  country. 

For  better  communication  with  Eunice  and  the  other  Deer¬ 
field  captives,  the  commissioners  return  to  Montreal,  where 
in  March  they  hold  another  conference  with  the  governor. 
With  the  air  and  speech  of  men  who  know  that  truth  and 
justice  are  on  their  side,  they  reproach  him  with  his  breach 
of  faith  in  throwing  obstacles  in  the  way  of  the  departure  of 
the  prisoners,  when  he  had  at  first  pretended  to  favor  it ;  and 
sick  with  hope  deferred,  they  demand  to  know  the  worst 
they  have  to  expect.  “Heaven  forbid  !  ”  said  Dora’s  papa  to 
David  Copperfield,  “that  I  should  do  any  man  injustice  ;  but 

*A  carriole  is  a  Canadian  sleigh. 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


150 


I  know  my  partner.  Mr.  Jorkins  is  not  a  man  to  respond  to 
a  proposition  of  this  nature  ;  ” — and  lamented  the  severities 
which  he  was  compelled  to  practise,  by  the  invisible  and 
inexorable  Jorkins.  In  like  manner  the  governor  protests 
that  nothing  is  nearer  his  heart  than  the  liberation  of  the 
prisoners,  which  only  the  fear  of  the  king  his  master,  pre¬ 
vents  his  effecting  at  once  ;  and  at  length  he  hints,  that  if 
the  so-called  naturalized  persons  can  be  smuggled  to  a  point 
below  Quebec,  Captain  Stoddard  may  take  them  on  shipboard 
as  he  drops  down  the  river,  and  the  government  will  not  in¬ 
terfere. 

One  reads  the  sorrow  and  anxiety  in  the  heart  of  Mr.  Wil¬ 
liams,  as  he  demands  that  “men  and  women  shall  not  be  en¬ 
tangled  by  the  marriages  they  may  have  contracted,  nor 
parents  by  children  born  to  them  in  captivity.”  The  govern¬ 
or  concedes  that  French  women  may  return  with  their 
English  husbands,  that  English  women  shall  not  be  forced 
to  stay  by  their  French  husbands,  but  about  the  children  of 
such  marriages,  he  is  not  so  sure. 

John  Carter,  a  Deerfield  youth  of  Eunice’s  age,  having  ex¬ 
pressed  his  willingness  to  go  by  land,  if  only  he  may  go 
home,  the  governor  says,  “If  John  will  say  this  before  me, 
he  may  go.”  Carter  being  sent  for  is  at  first  awed  by  the 
governor’s  presence  and  denies  that  he  has  any  desire  to  re¬ 
turn,  but  afterwards  repeating  what  he  had  before  said  to 
Mr.  Williams,  De  Vaudreuil  is  very  angry,  uses  the  lad 
roughly,  and  tells  him  he  is  to  wait  for  the  ship.  This  scene 
is  frequently  re-enacted,  till  John  at  last  is  overpowered,  re¬ 
tracts  his  wish,  and  remains  forever  in  Canada. 

Mr.  Williams  is  forbidden  to  have  any  religious  talk  with 
the  captives,  and  they  are  not  allowed  to  visit  him  on  the 
Sabbath.  The  “Lord  Intendant,”  hearing  that  Mr.  Williams 
had  been  abroad  after  eight  o’clock  in  the  evening  to  dis¬ 
course  upon  religion  with  some  of  the  English,  threatens 


EUNICE  WILLIAMS. 


151 


if  the  offence  is  repeated,  to  confine  him  a  prisoner  in  his 
lodging’s  ;  “for,”  says  he,  “the  priests  tell  me  you  undo  in  a 
moment  all  they  have  done  in  seven  years  to  establish  the 
people  in  our  religion,” — an  unpremeditated  compliment  to 
Mr.  Williams’s  power  as  a  preacher. 

When  Mr.  Williams  begs  that  his  child  may  be  restored 
to  him,  she  being  a  minor,  and  the  circumstances  of  her  ed¬ 
ucation  preventing  her  from  knowing  what  is  best  for  her, 
the  governor  says  if  her  Indian  relatives  consent,  he  will 
compel  her  to  return  with  her  father.  The  government  in¬ 
terpreter  is  sent  to  talk  with  her  and  her  Indian  relatives. 
The  latter  profess  that  she  may  do  as  she  pleases.  Knowing 
what  this  amounted  to  in  John  Carter’s  case,  Mr.  Williams, 
after  an  interview  with  his  daughter  at  Caughnawaga,  where 
he  found  the  prisoners  “worse  than  the  natives,”  has  a  con¬ 
ference  with  the  priests  of  the  mission  at  the  house  of  the 
governor,  who  makes  a  show  of  interceding  in  behalf  of  the 
afflicted  father.  The  Jesuits  reply  coldly,  that  those  of 
Caughnawaga  are  not  held  as  prisoners,  but  have  been  adopt¬ 
ed  as  children,  and  cannot  be  compelled  to  return  against 
their  wishes,  but  will  be  left  to  entire  freedom.  Too  well 
Mr.  Williams  knows  the  freedom  which  the  mother  church 
of  the  Jesuits  leaves  to  its  adopted  children.  The  commis¬ 
sioners  solicit  her  deliverance  as  a  favor  which  will  be  ap¬ 
preciated  by  the  sovereigns  of  the  two  nations,  and  suitably 
acknowledged  by  the  governors  of  both  provinces.  At  last, 
Mr.  Williams,  overcome  by  his  feelings,  represents  to  the 
Jesuits  that  it  cannot  benefit  them  to  retain  such  children, 
while  they  “cannot  but  be  sensible  that  their  parents  are 
much  exercised  about  them,”  and  with  tears  streaming  down 
his  face,  pleads  that  they  will  do  in  the  matter  as  they  would 
be  done  by.  Vain  appeal  to  the  heart  that  knows  not  the 
force  of  paternal  love. 

In  such  discussion  weeks  were  spent.  The  disappointment 


152 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


of  Captain  Stoddard,  who  with  his  personal  interest  in  the 
restoration  of  Eunice  to  her  family,  had  also  hoped  to  render 
a  signal  service  to  his  government ;  the  conflict  in  the  soul 
of  Mr.  Williams,  as  he  tried  to  reconcile  his  natural  affection 
as  a  parent,  and  his  spiritual  anxiety  as  a  Protestant  minister 
for  the  salvation  of  the  child’s  soul,  with  a  due  submission 
to  what  seemed  to  be  the  over-ruling  decrees  of  Providence 
for  her  ;  and  the  impatience  and  indignation  of  Martin  Kel- 
logg  and  Captain  Baker,  who  would  doubtless  have  preferred 
to  make  a  short  cut  through  the  difficulty  by  running  off  the 
prisoners  and  taking  the  chances  of  recapture, — all  this  is 
easier  imagined  than  described. 

The  expression  of  their  feelings  being  limited  by  their  ig¬ 
norance  of  the  French  language,  and  the  inconvenience  of 
speaking  by  an  interpreter,  they  poured  forth  their  souls  in 
letters,  in  which  the  straightforward,  plain  dealing  of  the 
English  Puritan,  appears  in  striking  contrast  to  the  circum¬ 
locution  and  diplomacy  of  the  French  Jesuit. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  brigantine  Leopard  from  Boston,  a 
final  demand  was  made  for  the  captives. 

The  commissioners,  finally  compelled  to  abandon  all  hope 
of  Eunice’s  return,  insist  that  Madame  Le  Beau1  shall  be  al¬ 
lowed  to  depart;  and  desire  that  Ebenezer  Nims  and  his 
wife  and  child  may  be  sent  for,  they  being  anxious  to  return 
but  afraid  to  say  so,  “till  they  see  themselves  clear  of  all 
danger  from  the  Indians.”  Nims,  then  seventeen  years  old, 
had  been  carried  captive  from  Deerfield  in  1704,  and  adopted 
by  an  Indian  squaw.  Sarah  Hoit,  a  maiden  of  eighteen,  was 
taken  at  the  same  time.  When  after  some  years,  her  cap¬ 
tors  were  about  to  resort  to  force  to  compel  her  to  marry  a 
Frenchman,  she  had  offered  to  accept  as  her  husband  any 
one  of  her  captive  neighbors  who  would  thus  free  her  from 
her  troublesome  suitor.  Ebenezer  gladly  offered  himself. 

1  See  the  story  of  “Christine  Otis.” 


COPYRIGHT  1895  BY  THf:  WOOL-FALL.  CO 


EUNICE  WILLIAMS. 


153 


They  were  married  at  once,  and  at  this  time  were  with  their 
baby  boy  at  Lorette,  eagerly  hoping  for  deliverance.  The 
governor  promises  that  a  horse  or  cart  shall  be  sent  for  Nims’s 
wife  who  is  ill,  and  that  all  the  family,  unaccompanied  by 
priest  or  Indian,  shall  be  brought  to  Quebec.  Captain  Stod¬ 
dard  sends  his  own  physician  to  assist  her  on  the  journey. 
He  returns  with  the  information  that  the  woman  is  able  to 
walk  to  town,  and  that  he  has  been  grossly  insulted  by  the 
Jesuit  priest  at  Lorette.  Nirns  is  sent,  accompanied  by 
“divers  Indians,”  but  at  last  by  the  persistence  of  Stoddard, 
all  are  assembled  and  put  on  board.  The  next  day  a  great 
concourse  of  Indians  came  from  Lorette,  and  demanding  to 
see  Nims,  were  assured  by  him  that  he  wished  to  go  home. 
Then  they  insisted  upon  his  giving  up  his  child,  which  he 
refusing,  was  permitted  to  return  with  his  family  to  his  na¬ 
tive  town.  Years  after,  the  Deerfield  records  tell  how  “Eb- 
enezer  Nims,  Junior,  having  been  baptized  by  a  Romish 
priest,  in  Canada,  and  being  dissatisfied  with  his  baptism, 
upon  consenting  to  the  articles  of  faith,”  was  baptized  anew 
by  good  Parson  Ashley. 

One  more  effort  was  made  by  the  Bishop,  and  high  officials 
to  prevent  Madame  Le  Beau  from  going,  but  in  vain. 

On  the  24th  of  July,  1714,  after  nine  months  absence  from 
home,  the  commissioners  set  sail,  having  effected  the  deliv¬ 
erance  of  but  twenty-six  prisoners ;  as  Stoddard  sadly  re¬ 
marks,  “Not  having  received  the  promised  list  from  the  gov¬ 
ernor ;  without  having  our  people  assembled  at  Quebec,  or 
half  of  them  asked  whether  they  would  return  or  not,  or  one 
minor  compelled  ;  having  never  seen  many  of  our  prisoners 
while  we  were  in  the  country.” 

This  was  the  last  official  effort  for  the  redemption  of  Eu¬ 
nice  Williams.  In  1740,  their  faithful  friends,  the  Schuylers, 
brought  about  an  interview  between  her  and  her  relatives, 
and  yielding  at  last  to  their  importunities,  she  in  later  years 


154 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


thrice  revisited  the  place  of  her  nativity.  That  she  insisted 
upon  returning  to  her  Canadian  home,  and  finally  died  there 
at  the  advanced  age  of  ninety,  is  to  my  mind,  no  more  than 
her  marriage,  a  proof  of  her  preference  for  savage  haunts 
and  modes  of  life.  It  is  well  known  that  English  girls,  cap¬ 
tured  at  the  same  time,  were  forced  into  marriages  with  the 
French  and  Indians,  utterly  repugnant  to  their  feelings.  At 
the  time  of  Eunice’s  memorable  visit  to  Deerfield,  children 
had  been  born  to  her,  and  to  the  maternal  instinct,  the  strong¬ 
est  passion  of  which  the  human  soul  is  capable,  even  filial 
affection  must  yield. 

If  we  admit  the  statement  that  her  Indian  husband  as¬ 
sumed  the  name  of  Williams,1  this,  and  the  name  of  her 
father  bestowed  upon  her  eldest  child,  prove  the  lingering 
fondness  in  her  heart  for  her  kinsfolk.  Although  robbed  of 
the  Christian  name  given  her  by  her  father  in  baptism,  she 
would  not  renounce  the  name  of  her  race. 

Another  proof  that  the  heart  of  Eunice  Williams  never 
ceased  to  turn  in  love  towards  the  home  of  her  infancy,  and 
that  she  spared  no  pains  to  perpetuate  this  affection  in  her 
descendants,  is  afforded  by  their  visit  nearly  a  hundred  years 
later,  to  the  spot  from  whence,  on  February  29,  1704,  she  had 
been  painfully  torn.2  Weighing  carefully  the  evidence,  it 
seems  indisputable  that  it  was  Romanism  warring  against 
Protestantism,  Jesuit  against  Puritan,  that  held  Eunice  Wil¬ 
liams  eighty-three  years  a  captive. 

'Eunice  Williams’s  husband  is  known  in  New  England  as  "Amrusus."  I 
believe  this  is  a  corruption  of  the  French  “Ambroise,”  [Ambrose,]  which  was 
probably  given  to  this  Christian  Indian  at  his  baptism.  C.  A.  B. 

-See  Appendix. 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


A  noted  place  is  the  Plym’s  mouth  in  Old  England.  On 
its  blue  waters  have  floated  ships  of  Tyre  and  merchantmen 
of  Massilia,  Keltic  coracle  and  Roman  galley,  Saxon  keel  and 
Norman  corsair.  Gallant  fleets  with  fair  foreign  brides  for 
English  princes,  have  sailed  into  Plymouth  harbor.  Hither, 
too,  came  false  Philip  of  Spain,  on  his  way  to  his  luckless 
wedding;  and  hence  the  pride  of  England’s  navy  went  out  to 
chastise  his  insolent  Armada.  Not  for  these  will  the  Plym¬ 
outh  of  England  be  forever  famous;  nor  because  it  was 
there  the  Black  Prince  landed  with  his  royal  captives,  after 
Poitiers;  nor  because  Drake  and  Hawkins,  and  other  noted 
navigators,  proceeded  thence  on  their  voyages  of  discovery: 
but  because  it  is  the  port  from  which  those  nobler  heroes, 
our  Pilgrim  Fathers,  sailed  when  they  came  to  establish 
freedom  and  justice  in  the  New  World,  planting  here  the 
world-renowned  colony  of  Plymouth  in  New  England,  the 
little  seed  which  has  grown  and  blossomed  into  the  grandest 
Republic  on  the  globe. 

Ten  years  later  than  the  Mayflower,  with  no  less  precious 
burden,  and  following  in  her  track,  another  ship  sailed  out 
of  Plymouth  harbor.  Before  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims, 
the  coasts  of  Massachusetts  Bay  were  familiar  to  the  west  of 


156  TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


England  seamen,  and  in  1623,  “the  merchants  of  the  western 
counties  had  grown  rich  on  the  profits  of  the  New  England 
fisheries.” 

Among  the  more  moderate  Puritans  of  the  west  country 
was  Rev.  John  White,  rector  of  Trinity  church  in  Dorches¬ 
ter.  Though  his  name  is  believed  to  have  headed  the  list  of 
the  “Adventurers  for  New  Plymouth,”  thus  showing  his 
sympathy  with  the  pilgrimage,  he  seems,  at  the  same  time, 
to  have  been  a  man  to  whom,  personally,  the  mere  externals 
of  religion  were  of  no  vital  consequence.  Quaint  old  Fuller 
describes  him  as  “a  constant  preacher,  so  that  in  the  course 
of  his  ministry  he  expounded  the  Scriptures  all  over  and  half 

over  again . A  good  Governor,  by  whose  wisdom  the 

town  of  Dorchester  (notwithstanding  a  casual  merciless  fire) 
was  much  enriched, — knowledge  causing  piety,  piety  breed¬ 
ing  industry,  and  industry  procuring  plenty  into  it . 

He  absolutely  commanded  his  own  passions,  and  the  purses 
of  his  parishioners,  whom  lie  could  wind  up  to  what  height 
he  pleased,  on  important  occasions.”  His  motives  and  agency 
in  the  settlement  of  Massachusetts  are  well  known  to  every 
reader  of  our  early  history.  In  1629,  he  wrote  to  Endicott 
“to  make  a  .place  for  sixty  more  families  from  Dorsetshire, 
to  arrive  the  next  spring,”  sundry  persons  from  that  and  the 
adjoining  counties  being  desirous  to  come  over  and  settle 
together  as  an  independent  community. 

A  great  ship  of  four  hundred  tons,  the  “Mary  and  John”, 
was  chartered  at  Plymouth,  and  in  March,  1630,  “many  good¬ 
ly  families  and  persons  from  Devonshire,  Dorsetshire  and 
Somersetshire,”  began  to  assemble  there.  “Great  pains,” 
says  the  historian,  “were  evidently  taken  to  construct  this 
company  of  such  materials  as  should  compose  a  well-ordered 
settlement.”  Here  were  those  two  reverend  servants  of 
God,  Mr.  John  Warham  and  Mr.  John  Maverick,  as  their 
spiritual  guides.  Here  were  Ludlow  and  Rossiter,  whose 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


157 


position  as  magistrates  of  the  company,  entitled  them  to  be 
political  counsellors  of  the  plantation.  Here  were  Captain 
John  Mason,  and  others  of  military  experience,  to  whom 
they  could  trust  in  case  of  Indian  attack.  Here,  too,  were 
many  whose  names  are  familiar  to  us,  through  their  descend¬ 
ants,  men  past  middle  age,  like  Thomas  Ford  and  William 
Phelps,  with  adult  families  and  ample  fortunes,  whose  pres¬ 
ence  lent  dignity  and  character  to  the  emigration;  others,  like 
Israel  Stoughton  and  Roger  Clap,  stout-hearted,  strong-armed 
young  men  in  the  prime  of  life  both  married  and  single,  on 
whom  the  brunt  of  the  actual  labor  of  the  new  settlement 
would  rest. 

With  them  to  the  embarkation  came  the  faithful  pastor, 
John  White.  He  had  been  the  soul  of  the  enterprise,  and 
many  of  them  were  his  friends,  neighbors  and  parishioners. 
How  solemn  must  have  been  the  scene,  unequalled  except 
by  the  memorable  parting  of  Robinson  and  his  flock,  when, 
gathering  them  together  in  the  new  hospital  for  a  day  of 
fasting  and  prayer,  he  preached  to  them,  as  he  and  they  well 
knew,  the  last  sermon  they  would  ever  hear  from  his  lips; 
his  final  words  of  encouragement,  as  they  bade  farewell  for¬ 
ever  to  home  and  native  land. 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day,  the  people  organized 
themselves  into  a  church  under  the  ministers  whom  he  had 
appointed,  they  formally  expressing  their  acceptance  of  the 
office  without  further  ordination;  and  on  the  20th  of  March 
the  “Mary  and  John”  dropped  down  Plymouth  harbor  and  took 
her  solitary  way  across  the  ocean.  “We  were  of  passengers 
many  in  number,  of  good  rank,”  says  Roger  Clap;  “so  we 
came  by  the  good  hand  of  the  Lord  through  the  deep,  com¬ 
fortably,  having  preached  or  expounded  of  the  word  of  God 
every  day  for  ten  weeks  together,  by  our  ministers.” 

After  a  passage  of  seventy  days,  the  ship  arrived  at  Hull. 
The  place  provided  for  the  colony  by  Endicott  was  on  the 


158  TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


Charles  River.  Whether  Captain  Squeb  supposed  he  had 
reached  there,  or  whether  he  dared  not  venture  farther  into 
the  bay  without  a  pilot,  is  uncertain;  but  much  against  their 
will,  he  put  his  passengers  and  their  cattle  ashore  on  Nantas- 
ket  point.  Ten  of  the  party,  putting  some  o?  the  goods  into 
a  boat,  set  out  in  search  of  a  place  for  a  permanent  settle¬ 
ment.  Threading  their  way  in  and  out  among  the  islands, 
they  finally  landed  at  Charlestown,  went  up  the  river  as  far 
as  Watertown,  and  camped  for  a  day  or  two  on  a  spot  to 
this  day  known  as  Dorchester  fields. 

“We  had  not  been  there  many  days,”  says  Roger  Clap,  who 
was  of  the  party,  “though  by  our  diligence  we  had  got  up  a 
kind  of  shelter  to  save  our  goods  in,  but  we  had  order  from 

the  ship  to  come  away . unto  a  place  called  Mattapan, 

because  there  was  a  strip  of  land  fit  to  keep  our  cattle  on . 

so  we  removed  and  came  to  Mattapan.” 

The  story  of  the  first  settlement  of  Massachusetts  is  so 
simply  told  by  the  actors  in  this  grand  drama,  that  we  can 
hardly  realize  the  magnitude  of  the  enterprise.  Think  of 
the  luxury  and  ease  relinquished,  the  sorrow  of  parting  for¬ 
ever  from  home  and  country,  the  anxieties,  discomforts  and 
dangers  of  a  ten  weeks’  passage,  and  the  terrible  wilderness 
to  be  subdued  before  the  most  common  wants  of  life  could  be 
supplied. 

Notwithstanding  the  scarcity  and  sickness  of  the  first  year, 
the  colony  at  Mattapan,  which  in  honor  of  the  patriarch 
White,  had  received  the  name  of  Dorchester,  grew  and  pros¬ 
pered.  But  the  current  of  emigration,  already  set  firmly  to 
the  westward,  was  not  to  be  stayed  at  Mattapan.  Rumors  of 
rich  bottom-lands  on  a  great  river  to  the  west,  bred  discon¬ 
tent  with  the  rocky  soil  on  which  they  had  first  planted  them¬ 
selves.  This,  fostered  by  the  political  ambition  of  some  who 
were  disappointed  of  preferment  in  Massachusetts,  led  the 
Dorchester  colonists  to  determine  upon  removal. 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


159 


“Come  with  me  now,”  says  Cotton  Mather,  “to  behold 
some  worthy  and  learned  and  genteel  persons  going  to  be 
buried  alive  on  the  banks  of  Connecticut,  having  been  first 
slain  by  the  ecclesiastical  persecutions  of  Europe.”  At  mid¬ 
summer  of  1635,  a  few  pioneers  from  Dorchester  reached  the 
Great  River,  and  near  the  Plymouth  trading  house,  set  up  two 
years  before  by  William  Holmes,  began  to  make  preparation 
for  a  settlement.  On  the  1 5th  of  October,  “the  main  body  of  the 
emigration,  about  sixty  men,  women  and  children”  set  forth 
from  Dorchester  on  the  long  and  toilsome  journey  to  the  val¬ 
ley  of  the  Connecticut.  Like  a  bit  of  romance  from  the  mid¬ 
dle  ages, — like  the  vanguard  of  some  great  army  of  Crusa¬ 
ders,  seems  the  march  of  this  valiant  little  band. 

Day  after  day  in  the  beautiful  October  weather,  driving 
their  cattle  before  them,  they  wound  their  way  through  the 
trackless  wilderness,  a  compass  their  only  guide.  The  brill¬ 
iant  leaves  of  autumn  fluttered  softly  to  their  feet  as  they 
tramped  through  the  tranquil  forest,  singing  their  pious 
hymns;  and  the  frolicsome  squirrel,  scared  from  his  harvest¬ 
ing,  ceased  his  chatter  as  they  passed.  With  prayer  and 
praise,  for  fourteen  days  they  journeyed  on,  but  when  they 
reached  their  destination,  the  autumnal  glory  had  departed, 
the  leafless  trees  sighed  and  shivered  in  the  wintry  gale,  and 
the  cold  gray  river  gave  them  sullen  welcome.  We  will  not 
dwell  upon  the  horrors  of  that  winter.  The  spring  brought 
many  of  their  friends,  who  had  been  left  behind  at  first,  and 
the  little  settlement,  known  to  us  in  later  times  as  Windsor, 
was  called  Dorchester,  a  name  dear  to  the  hearts  of  so  many 
of  those  weary  Pilgrims. 

Among  “the  precious  men  and  women,”  whom  we  may 
suppose  to  have  come  with  the  Dorchester  Company  in  1630, 
and  to  have  borne  their  share  of  the  trials  and  sufferings  of 
the  new  settlements,  were  Isaac  Sheldon,  his  wife,  whose 
name  is  unknown,  and  their  infant  son.  Of  his  ancestry  we 


i6o 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


have  no  definite  knowledge.  The  name  was  at  that  time 
an  honorable  one  in  England,  and  is  still  found  among 
the  nobility  and  gentry  of  several  English  counties.  In 
the  list  of  “The  worthies  of  Somersetshire  since  the  time  of 
Fuller,”  is  the  name  of  “that  most  munificent  and  generous 
prelate,”  Gilbert  Sheldon,  born  in  1598,  “descended  from  the 
ancient  family  of  Sheldons  of  Staffordshire,”  and  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury  in  1663. 

Isaac  Sheldon’s  name  appears  in  Dorchester  in  1634,  as  of 
Warham’s  congregation,  but  not  of  the  church.  He  removed 
to  Windsor  with  the  emigration  of  1635,  and  there  we  find 
him  four  years  later,  the  owner  of  a  house,  barn,  orchard 
and  home  lot.  The  following,  from  Windsor  town  records, 
evidently  referring  to  his  son,  then  a  young,  unmarried  man, 
seems  to  prove  that  Isaac,  the  elder,  was  not  living  at  this 
date : 

“Sept.  13,  1652.  It  is  assented  that  Isaac  Sheldon  and  Samuel 
Rockwell  shall  keep  house  together  in  the  house  that  is  Isaac’s,  so 
they  carry  themselves  soberly,  and  do  not  entertain  idle  persons,  to 
the  evil  expense  of  time  by  night  or  day.” 

In  explanation  of  the  above,  it  may  be  said  that  the  stat¬ 
utes  of  our  fathers  for  the  prevention  of  vice  were  many. 
The  family  was  next  in  sacredness  to  the  church.  Every 
newly-wedded  couple  was  expected  to  set  up  a  home,  and  at 
once  to  enter  upon  household  duties.  In  good  old  Colonial 
days,  the  young  husband  could  not  lounge  away  his  evenings 
smoking  at  his  club,  while  his  bride  dawdled  away  hers  in 
the  petty  gossip  of  boarding-house  parlors  ;  and  married  per¬ 
sons  of  either  sex,  remaining  long  in  the  colony  without 
their  respective  partners,  were  made  to  send  for  them,  or 
were  themselves  ordered  back  to  England  as  disreputable. 
No  inhabitant  was  admitted  unless  approved  by  the  town, 
and  every  householder  was  called  to  strict  account  for  his  visit¬ 
ors,  and  made  answerable  for  their  good  conduct  and  solvency. 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


161 


In  Windsor,  “no  master  of  a  family”  might  “give  habita¬ 
tion  or  entertainment  to  any  young  man  to  sojourn  in  his 
family,  but  by  the  allowance  of  the  town,”  and  “no  young 
man  that  had  not  a  servant,  or  was  not  a  public  officer,  might 
keep  house  by  himself  without  permission  from  the  town 
under  a  penalty  of  twenty  shillings  a  week.”  Wherefore,  in 
1652,  his  father  being  dead,  Isaac  Sheldon,  Junior,  then  about 
twenty-three  years  of  age,  obtained  permission  to  live  on  the 
homestead,  and  to  take  as  his  companion,  Samuel  Rockwell, 
a  son  of  one  of  the  early  settlers  also  deceased.  The  arrange¬ 
ment  was  of  short  duration,  for  Isaac  having  married  Mary 
Woodford  in  1653,  sold  out  to  Rockwell  the  same  year,  and 
with  his  wife  and  infant  daughter,  removed  to  Northampton, 
among  the  first  settlers  of  that  town. 

Isaac  and  Mary  Woodford  Sheldon  were  blessed  with  thir¬ 
teen  children.  John  Sheldon  of  Deerfield,  their  second  son 
and  third  child,  was  born  in  Northampton,  Dec.  5,  1658. 
Among  the  companions  of  his  childhood,  were  John  and 
Benoni  Stebbins,  sons  of  John  Stebbins  of  Northampton,  and 
grandsons  of  old  Rowland  Stebbins  of  Springfield.  In  1679, 
while  yet  lacking  a  month  of  his  majority,  he  married  their 
sister,  Hannah  Stebbins,  she  being  then  but  fifteen  years  and 
four  months  old.  The  boy  husband  and  his  child  wife  re¬ 
mained  in  Northampton  until  after  the  birth  of  their  first 
two  children  ;  but  the  pioneer  spirit  was  born  in  him,  and 
we  find  him  soon,  with  his  young  family,  among  the  found¬ 
ers  of  a  frontier  settlement,  as  his  father  and  grandfather 
had  been  before  him. 

In  another  story  are  detailed  the  unsuccessful  attempts  at 
the  settlement  of  Deerfield  up  to  1682.  Among  the  very  first 
of  those  by  whom  the  town  was  permanently  established, 
were  John  Sheldon  and  his  wife’s  brothers,  John  and  Benoni 
Stebbins. 

John  Sheldon  is  first  mentioned  in  the  town  records  of 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


162 


Deerfield  in  1686,  when  he  was  chosen  on  a  committee  “to 
lay  out  all  the  woodlands.”  By  this  same  meeting  the  Dor¬ 
chester  schoolmaster,  John  Williams,  was  called  to  be  their 
pastor.  The  same  year  Sheldon  was  chosen  on  the  first  board 
of  Selectmen,  and  re-elected  almost  every  year  until  1704. 
The  legislative  and  executive  powers  of  this  board  were  then 
very  great. 

When  in  1689,  the  people  rose  in  their  strength  against 
Andros,  and  a  “council  for  the  safety  of  the  people”  headed 
by  old  Simon  Bradstreet,  the  last  of  the  Puritans,  summoned 
a  convention  of  delegates  from  the  several  towns  of  Massa¬ 
chusetts  to  deliberate  upon  the  future  government,  it  was  a 
bold  but  justifiable  act.  Successful  or  not,  it  was  treason; 
and  if  unsuccessful,  its  movers  would  pay  the  penalty.  No 
town  meeting  appears  to  have  been  called  in  Deerfield,  but 
John  Sheldon  did  not  hesitate.  He,  as  Chairman  of  the 
board  of  Selectmen,  took,  with  them,  the  responsibility  of 
sending  Lieut.  Thomas  Wells  as  delegate  to  the  convention, 
signing  with  them  his  credentials  as  “We  the  Town  of  Deer¬ 
field.”  After  the  massacre  at  Schenectady,  the  town  of 
Deerfield 

“Att  a  Leagall  Town  meeting  Febr  26.  1689-90  Voted  that  yr  shall 
be  a  good  sufficient  fortification  made  upon  the  meeting  hous 
hill  : . 

Thatt  all  persons  whose  families  cannot  conveniently  and  comfort¬ 
ably  be  received  into  ye  houses  yl  are  already  upon  ye  meeting  hous 
hill  and  shall  be  wthn  the  fortifications  :  such  persons  shall  have 
habitations  provided  for  ym  wthn  sd  fortifications  att  the  Town  charg 
but  any  prson  or  prsons  y*  shall  provide  habitations  for  yraselves  shall 
be  exempt  from  ye  charges  aforesd  : 

ThatSgt  Jn°  Sheldon  Benoni  Stebbins  &  Edward  Allyn  shall  have 
full  powr  to  appoint  where  every  persons  hous  or  cellar  shall  stand 
wl  bigness  ya  shall  be.” 

On  the  death  of  Lieut.  Thomas  Wells,  in  1691,  his  brother 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


163 


Jonathan  was  appointed  in  his  place,  and  Sheldon,  who  had 
been  also  recommended  by  John  Pynchon  for  the  lieuten¬ 
ancy,  was  made  ensign.  In  1693,  we  find  him  deacon  of  the 
church;  the  next  year,  on  the  committee  to  build  a  new  meet¬ 
ing-house,  and  on  various  other  committees;  and  in  1696,  on 
the  committee  to  seat  the  meeting  house.  In  1697,  he,  with 
Jonathan  Wells,  was  appointed  to  look  over  old  papers  and 
“direct  the  Town  Clerk  to  record  such  as  should  be  re¬ 
corded.’’  To  the  discretion  and  labors  of  this  committee, 
Deerfield  owes  the  preservation  of  four  pages  of  very  valuable 
matter  on  its  town  records.  On  these  records,  we  find  no 
busier  man  than  John  Sheldon,  none  whose  voice  was  more 
often  sought  in  the  prudential  affairs  of  the  town.  He  was 
chosen  to  measure  the  meadow  lands,  and  to  settle  the 
bounds  between  neighbors.  He  served  as  tythingman  and 
school  committee,  and  was  very  often  moderator  of  the  town 
meetings.  In  short,  John  Sheldon  was  a  prominent  man  in 
the  early  history  of  Deerfield,  successfully  administering 
those  important  town  offices,  which  require  the  most  prudent 
foresight,  and  the  most  candid  and  impartial  judgment. 

While  under  the  watchful  care  of  John  Sheldon,  and  others 
as  faithful,  the  puny  settlement  was  struggling  for  an  exist¬ 
ence,  the  mine  for  its  destruction  was  already  in  train. 
Glance  for  a  moment  at  the  situation:  Romish  New  France 
in  the  north;  Romish  New  Spain  at  the  south;  between  these, 
as  between  the  upper  and  nether  millstones,  Protestant  New 
England  and  New  Netherlands  occupying  the  debatable 
ground;  for  years  a  political  struggle  for  territory  between 
the  three  last  named.  The  Lieutenant-General  of  Canada 
sends  over  the  ice  and  snow,  and  nails  his  arms  to  the  trees 
on  the  English  limits;  the  English  quietly  push  towards 
Acadia,  and  hold  their  ground  at  the  Great  Bay  of  the  north. 
The  treacherous  savage,  ready  to  trade  his  peltry  or  sell  his 
prowess  to  the  highest  bidder,  to-day  tears  down  the  King’s 


164 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


crest  from  the  trees  and  carries  it  in  derision  into  Orange, 
and  to-morrow  begs  the  Lieutenant-General  to  send  him 
“black  gowns”  to  teach  him  about  the  Frenchman’s  God. 
There  are  plots  and  counterplots.  The  black  gown  writes  to 
Canada  “that  the  Governor  of  New  York,  who  is  coming  to 
speak  to  the  Five  Nations,  has  sent  a  shabby  ship’s  flag,  bear¬ 
ing  the  arms  of  England,  to  be  set  up  among  them,  which  is 
still  in  the  Mohawks’  public  chest”  and  he  knows  not  when  it 
will  see  day. 

Complications  arising  from  the  accession  of  the  Prince  of 
Orange,  and  later,  the  succession  of  Anne  to  the  English 
throne,  afford  the  excuse  for  more  open  hostilities.  In  the 
French  Archives  of  the  period,  may  be  found  the  links  of 
that  chain  by  which  the  pastor  and  people  of  Deerfield  were 
to  be  held  in  bondage.  There,  in  detail,  is  the  policy  of 
the  French,  which  is  by  embroiling  the  eastern  Indians  with 
the  English,  under  the  pretext  that  the  latter  have  encroached 
upon  their  hunting  grounds,  to  incite  them  to  fall  upon 
the  frontier  towns:  then  under  the  plea  that  being  at  war 
with  the  English  they  can  no  longer  live  on  English  soil,  by 
promises  of  support  and  protection,  to  induce  them  to  remove 
near  to  Quebec  and  Montreal,  whither  they  will  attract  much 
trade,  and  where  they  will  become  a  powerful  ally  of  the 
French  in  the  prosecution  of  the  war, 

There  are  protests  from  the  Canadian  Governor  against 
the  trespasses  of  the  English;  threats  of  the  French  King  of 
what  will  happen  to  Boston  if  the  English  do  not  keep  with¬ 
in  their  limits;  the  fears  of  Frontenac  that  the  Acadians  may 
incline  to  the  English,  “as  they  are  too  far  from  French  suc¬ 
cor  in  case  of  trouble”  between  the  two  nations.  There  are 
instructions  from  the  French  minister  to  the  Governors  of  Aca¬ 
dia  and  Canada,  so  to  manage  affairs  that  the  Abenakis  shall 
find  it  more  advantageous  to  live  by  war  than  by  the  chase; 
notes  on  the  political  services  of  Fathers  Rasle  and  Bigot; 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


165 


letters  of  commendation  and  gifts  of  money  to  Father  Thury 
for  his  share  in  the  bloody  work;  reports  of  the  conferences 
of  the  chiefs  with  the  governor  at  Quebec,  and  the  diplo¬ 
matic  falsehoods  and  fair  promises  of  the  latter;  lists  of  pres¬ 
ents  and  supplies  for  the  Indians:  Brazilian  tobacco,  ver¬ 
milion,  kettles  of  all  sizes,  blue  serge,  a  jacket  with  gold 
facings,  a  shirt,  hat,  pair  of  shoes  and  stockings  for  one  of  the 
chiefs,  and  a  “shift  for  his  daughter,  of  whom  he  was  very 
fond;’’  orders  for  “tufts  of  white  feathers,”  costing  a  few  cen¬ 
times  in  Paris,  to  designate  the  savages  in  night  attacks; 
weapons,  and  provisions,  flour,  molasses,  butter,  and  “plenty 
of  brandy,  without  which  they  will  not  act  efficiently.” 

Ever  since  the  building  of  her  stockade,  Deerfield  had 
been  in  a  state  of  alarm.  Repeated  sallies  had  been  made 
by  the  enemy,  and  several  of  the  inhabitants  had  been  killed, 
and  others  carried  into  captivity.  The  distress  of  the  people 
will  be  seen  from  the  following  extract  from  a  letter  of  their 
pastor  to  the  governor  praying  for  an  abatement  of  taxes, 
and  dated  Oct.  21st,  1703: 

“We  have  been  driven  from  our  houses  &  home  lots  into  the  fort, 
some  a  mile,  some  2  miles,  whereby  we  have  suffered  much 
loss,  .  ...  .  the  whole  town  kept  in;  our  children  of  12  or  13  years 
and  under,  we  have  been  afraid  to  improve  in  the  field,  for  fear 

of  the  enemy; . we  have  been  crowded  togather  into  houses, 

to  the  preventing  indoor  affairs  being  carryed  on  to  any  advantage 
&  must  be  constrained  to  expend  at  least  50^  to  make  any  com¬ 
fortable  provision  of  housing  if  we  stay  togather  in  cold  weather: 

so  that  our  losses  are  far  more  than  would  have  paid  our  taxes . 

i  would  request  your  Excellency  so  far  to  commiserate  as  to  do 
what  may  be  encouraging  to  persons  to  venture  their  all  in  the  fron¬ 
tiers,  . and  that  they  may  have  something  allowed  them  in  mak¬ 

ing  the  fortification;  we  have  mended  it,  it  is  in  vain  to  mend,  & 
must  make  it  all  new,  &  fetch  timber  for  206  rod,  3  or  4  miles  if 
we  get  oak.” 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


1 66 


Thanks  to  the  Deerfield  historian,  whose  study  of  the 
“Antient  Records”  Seems  to  have  come  to  him  by  direct  de¬ 
scent,  we  can  reconstruct  the  village  as  it  was  in  the  winter 
of  1703-4.  In  the  north-west  corner  of  the  rebuilt  fortifica¬ 
tions,  stood  the  house  of  Ensign  John  Sheldon,  a  two-story 
front,  42x21,  and  a  one-story  lean-to  or  kitchen.  It  needs  no 
description.  The  appearance  of  the  “Old  Indian  House,”  as  it 
was  called  ever  after  that  fatal  day,  is  familiar  to  many.  He 
had  built  it  in  1696,  to  accommodate  his  growing  family.  It 
was  probably  the  largest  and  the  best  in  town,  and  the  hos¬ 
pitalities  to  this  day  so  generously  dispensed  on  that  spot, 
began  with  Landlord  Sheldon. 

Lulled  by  frequent  false  alarms  into  a  fatal  sense  of  secu¬ 
rity,  John  Sheldon  and  his  neighbors  slept  soundly  on  the 
night  of  the  29th  of  February,  1704.  The  bitter  cold  pene¬ 
trated  even  his  well-built  dwelling,  the  drifted  snow  lay  piled 
outside  against  the  palisades,  the  wind  shrieked  as  it  tore  the 
dry  branches  from  the  trees  and  hurled  them  far  over  the 
frozen  crust ;  but  no  consciousness  of  unusual  danger  dis¬ 
turbed  their  slumbers.  Yet  with  the  rushing  of  each  fitful 
gust,  running  with  it  from  the  north  and  pausing  as  it  ceased, 
the  cruel  foe  was  creeping  stealthily  nearer  to  the  little  ham¬ 
let.  The  stormy  night  was  well-nigh  spent,  the  guard  lay 
heavy  in  his  first  sleep,  when  “the  enemy  came  in  like  a 
flood.”  Pouring  over  the  palisades,  heaving  and  tossing  like 
the  angry  billows  of  a  stormy  sea,  roaring  and  rushing  to 
and  fro  within  the  fortification,  the  horrid  crowd  surged 
about  the  houses  of  the  defenseless  people.  Roused  by  their 
hideous  yells,  the  sleepers  woke  bewildered  to  find  them¬ 
selves  surrounded  by  dusky  faces  fiendish  with  fresh  war 
paint.  Resistance  was  vain  ;  some  were  instantly  murdered  ; 
others,  powerless  from  fear,  were  fiercely  torn  from  their 
warm  beds,  bound  hand  and  foot,  and  hurried  out  half  naked 
into  the  bitter  night.  Deafened  by  the  tumult,  blinded  by 


*;! 

\  wr 

rrsi] 

I 


-  =*3= 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


167 


the  glare  of  torches,  driven  like  sheep  to  the  shambles,  they 
were  huddled  together  in  the  meeting  house,  where  but  yes¬ 
terday  their  faithful  shepherd  had  folded  his  flock  in  peace. 
Confusion  and  terror  reigned.  The  place  which  they  had 
been  taught  to  regard  as  the  house  of  God  was  now  defiled 
and  desecrated.  There,  where  so  lately  their  voices  had 
mingled  in  prayer  and  praise,  could  now  be  heard  only  the 
groans  of  the  wounded,  the  wailing  of  women,  the  shrieks 
of  the  children  and  the  tremulous  voices  of  the  aged  calling 
on  God  to  “remember  mercy  in  the  midst  of  judgment.” 

Hard  by,  in  the  house  of  Benoni  Stebbins,  seven  heroic 
men,  bravely  seconded  by  their  wives,  for  three  hours  kept 
at  bay  the  combined  force  of  French  and  Indians.  With 
their  children  clinging  to  them  in  fright,  unceasingly  the 
women  moulded  the  bullets,  resolutely  the  men  stood  at  their 
posts.  The  leaden  hail  beat  steadily  down  upon  the  assail¬ 
ants.  Fiercer  and  higher  on  the  keen  air,  rose  the  yells  of 
the  baffled  foe. 

Not  far  away,  in  his  own  house,  pinioned  and  helpless,  but 
calm  and  steadfast,  the  pastor  of  the  little  flock,  surrounded 
by  his  terrified  family,  as  he  “was  able  committed  their  state 
to  God,  praying  that  they  might  have  grace  to  glorify  His 
name,  whether  in  life  or  death.” 

For  a  time,  the  well  built  and  firmly  bolted  door  of  John 
Sheldon’s  house  proved  an  effectual  barrier  against  the  sav¬ 
ages.  Sacred  historic  door!  Door  of  the  ark  of  the  cove¬ 
nant  wert  thou  to  our  fathers  in  the  olden  time.  Built  of  no 
costly  material,  thy  posts  were  not  inlaid  with  shell;  no  gold 
adorns  thy  panels.  Heart  of  oak  art  thou,  fit  type  of  the 
heroes  who  framed  thee  ;  sturdy  and  strong  in  their  defence 
as  they,  in  defence  of  their  liberty, — ye  yielded  never ! 
More  to  us  than  Grecian  sculptures  are  thy  carvings  by  In¬ 
dian  tomahawk,  and  thy  wrought  spikes,  more  precious  than 
bosses  of  silver  and  gold  ! 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


1 68 


Maddened  at  last  by  their  baffled  efforts,  they  hacked  and 
hewed  at  it  till  the  hole  was  cut,  which  is  still  to  be  seen  in 
it.1  Through  this  they  fired  at  random,  killing  Sheldon’s 
wife,  who  was  dressing  herself  in  bed  in  the  room  at  the 
right  of  the  door.  Finally  swarming  in  at  the  windows  and 
rudely  awaking  Mary  Sheldon,  a  maiden  of  sixteen,  from 
sweet  dreams  of  her  lover,  they  captured  her  and  her  young 
brothers,  Ebenezer  and  Remembrance ;  and  killed  their  lit¬ 
tle  sister,  Mercy,  a  child  of  three  years.  Their  eldest  broth¬ 
er,  John,  had  married  three  months  before,  Hannah  Chapin 
of  Springfield.  During  the  preparation  of  the  bridal  outfit, 
her  mother,  loath  to  have  her  encounter  the  perils  of  a  fron¬ 
tier  settlement,  yet  with  that  strange  inconsistency  with 
which  we  often  make  a  jest  of  the  saddest  things  in  life, 
advised  her  to  have  a  pelisse  made  of  unusual  thickness,  as 
she  might  need  it  if  she  were  carried  off  by  the  Indians.  On 
the  first  alarm  she  and  her  husband,  who  were  occupying  the 
east  chamber  of  his  father’s  house,  jumped  together  from 
the  window.  Spraining  her  ankle,  and  unable  to  save  her¬ 
self,  she  urged  her  husband  to  leave  her  and  alarm  the  nearest 
village.  At  her  entreaties  he  stripped  up  a  blanket,  and 
binding  it  about  his  bare  feet,  ran  to  Hatfield.  His  heroic 
bride  was  captured  with  the  rest. 

At  daybreak,  Hertel  de  Rouville  rallied  his  troops  for  the 
retreat,  and  the  shivering  captives  began  their  painful  march. 
The  sorrows  of  that  awful  journey  cannot  be  described. 
Snow-blind  and  starving,  with  aching  hearts,  and  frozen 
limbs,  and  bleeding  feet,  they  staggered  on  for  twenty-five 
days.  Arriving  at  Chambly  in  detached  parties,  they  were 
separated,  some  remaining  with  their  Indian  captors,  others 
bought  by  the  French  of  Montreal  and  Quebec. 

Let  us  return  to  the  desolated  village  whence  they  had 
been  so  cruelly  snatched.  Of  the  whereabouts  of  John  Shel- 


’This  door  is  preserved  in  Memorial  Hall  at  Deerfield. 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


169 


don  the  elder,  on  that  fearful  night,  we  know  nothing,  but 
we  cannot  suppose  him  to  have  been  idle  or  panic  stricken. 
He  may  have  been  with  the  gallant  band  that  fell  upon  the 
enemy’s  rear  that  morning,1  abandoning  the  pursuit  only 
when  retaliation  threatened  the  captives.  What  must  have 
been  his  feelings  and  those  of  his  neighbors  equally  bereft, 
as  they  walked  among  the  still  smoking  ashes  of  their  once 
happy  homes,  searching  among  the  dead  and  dying  for  traces 
of  their  kindred.  His  daughter,  Hannah,  whose  husband, 
Joseph  Catlin,  was  slain  in  the  meadow  fight,  his  little  grand¬ 
child,  and  his  married  son,  were  all  that  were  left  of  John 
Sheldon’s  family.  In  the  spring  days  that  followed,  the 
scanty  remnant  of  these  three  households  sat  round  his 
cheerless  hearthstone,  and  talked  sadly  of  their  dead,  and  of 
those  far  away  in  captivity  worse  than  death.  Vaguely  at 
first  he  thought  of  their  possible  rescue,  but  as  the  gloomy 
summer  wore  on,  his  dream  became  a  definite  purpose,  and 
he  announced  his  determination  to  devote  his  remaining  en¬ 
ergies  to  the  redemption  of  his  children  and  townsfolk. 

Meanwhile  their  captors  were  jubilant.  Exaggerated  re¬ 
ports  of  their  success  were  made  to  the  French  Minister,  by 
the  Governor  and  the  Intendant  of  Canada : 

A  letter  of  this  period  from  De  Vaudreuil  to  the  Minister, 
says : 

“The  Sieur  de  Rouville . desires,  My  Lord,  that  you  would 

have  the  goodness  to  think  of  his  promotion,  having  been,  invari¬ 
ably  in  all  the  expeditions  that  presented  themselves,  and  being  still 

actually  with  the  Abenakis . The  Sieur  de  Rouvilles  party, 

My  Lord,  has  accomplished  everything  expected  of  it,  for  in¬ 
dependent  of  the  capture  of  a  fort,2  it  showed  the  Abenakis 
that  they  could  truly  rely  on  our  promises  ;  and  this  is  what  they 

1  “The  Meadow  Fight.” 

2Deerfield. 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


170 


told  me  at  Montreal  on  the  13th  of  June  when  they  came  to 
thank  me.”1 

A  letter  to  the  Minister  from  the  Governor  and  the  In- 
tendant  of  Canada,  written  at  the  same  time,  contains  the 
following : 

“We  had  the  honor  to  report  to  you  last  year,  My  Lord,  the  rea¬ 
sons  which  had  obliged  us  to  embroil  the  English  with  the  Aben- 

akis, . The  English  having  killed  some  of  these  Indians,  they 

sent  us  word  of  it,  and . demanded  assistance. 

This  obliged  us,  My  Lord,  to  send  thither  the  Sieur  de  Rouville 
an  officer  of  the  line,  with  nearly  two  hundred  men  who  attacked  a 
fort2  in  which  according  to  the  report  of  all  the  prisoners,  there 
were  more  than  one  hundred  men  under  arms  ;  they  took  more  than 
one  hundred  and  fifty  prisoners,  including  men  and  women,  and  re¬ 
treated,  having  lost  only  three  men  and  some  twenty  wounded.”3 

A  deputation  of  the  Abenakis  waited  upon  their  “father,” 
the  governor,  “to  bear  witness  to  the  pleasure  he  had  given 
them  in  avenging  them  against  the  English,”  and  he  in  turn, 
congratulated  his  “children”  upon  their  united  victory  over 
their  “common  enemy.”  Mr.  Parkman  says,  “Except  their 
inveterate  habit  of  poaching  on  Acadian  fisheries,  the  people 
of  New  England  had  not  provoked  these  barbarous  attacks.” 

The  correspondence  between  the  governors  of  the  two 
provinces  during  several  years  previous  to  the  sacking  of 
Deerfield,  in  which  one  or  the  other  is  constantly  demanding 
or  receiving  satisfaction  for  the  seizure  of  vessels,  shows  that 
privateering  was  common  to  both  parties  even  during  a  nom¬ 
inal  peace.  In  one  of  these  poaching  expeditions,  the  Eng¬ 
lish  had  seized  a  Frenchman,  known  in  our  annals  as  Cap- 

'Letter  from  M.  de  Vaudreuil  to  M.  de  Pontchartrain,  Quebec.  16th  gber 
1704.  N.  Y.  Col.  Doc.  Vol.  IX.  p.  759. 

•Deerfield. 

Tetter  from  Messieurs  De  Vaudreuil  and  De  Beauharnois  to  M.  de  Pont¬ 
chartrain,  Quebec,  17th  November,  1704.  N.  Y.  Col.  Doc.  Vol.  IX.  p.  762. 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


171 


tain  Baptiste,  who  had  proved  himself  a  spy  and  a  traitor  in 
the  serviee  of  both  governments,  and  who  was,  moreover,  a 
wholly  unprincipled  fellow,  having  besides  his  Acadian  wife, 
several  others  in  different  parts  of  the  world.  As  from  his 
knowledge  of  the  coast,  he  was  very  necessary  to  the  Aca¬ 
dian  government,  one  Le  Fevre  was  sent  to  Boston  in  the 
autumn  of  1702,  to  demand  his  release.  War  having  been  in 
the  meantime  declared,  Dudley  detained  Le  Fevre,  and  flatly 
refused  to  surrender  Baptiste.  In  concluding  his  letter  to 
the  governor  of  Port  Royal,  he  says,  “As  for  the  exchange 
of  prisoners,  when  I  shall  be  advised  of  the  settlement  of  a 
cartel  properly,  I  shall  embrace  it  as  being  very  usefull.  In 
the  meantime  I  must  desire  that  the  subjects  of  her  Majesty 
the  Queen,  my  Sovereign  Lady,  may  have  the  good  fortune 
to  keep  themselves  out  of  the  Inconveniences  of  a  captivity, 
though  never  so  easy  and  short.”1  How  grievously  this  hope 
was  disappointed,  we  have  already  seen. 

When  the  Deerfield  pastor  and  his  fellow  captives  reached 
Canada,  the  “Governor  told  me,”  says  Mr.  Williams,  “that  I 
should  be  sent  home  as  soon  as  Captain  Battis  was  returned 
and  not  before,  and  that  I  was  taken  in  order  to  his  redemp¬ 
tion.”2 

In  April,  1704,  and  again  in  August,  Dudley  despatched  let¬ 
ters  by  way  of  Albany,  to  the  Canadian  governor,  upbraiding 
his  conduct  of  the  war  as  unlawful  and  unchristian.  “You 
have  boasted,”  he  says,  “of  massacring  my  poor  women  and 
children,  and  carrying  away  into  a  miserable  captivity  the 
reste,  and  they  are  made  a  matter  of  trade  between  the  Sav¬ 
ages  and  the  subjects  of  your  master,  under  your  govern¬ 
ment . I  write  you  this  to  tell  you  that  such  treatment 

of  Christians  will  be  esteemed  barbarous  by  all  Europe,  and 
I  expect  you  to  withdraw  all  these  Christian  captives  from 

'Mass. Archives,  Vol.  V.  p.  612. 

2  “The  Redeemed  Captive,”  p.  48,  Edition  of  MDCCC. 


172 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


the  hands  of  savages,  and  return  them  to  me,  as  I  have  sev¬ 
eral  times  returned  your  people  to  Port  Royal,  and  shall  con¬ 
tinue  to  do,  until  I  have  your  reply  to  this.”1 

In  his  August  letter  he  offers  an  equal  exchange  of  pris¬ 
oners,  and  threatens  reprisals  if  a  more  honorable  treatment 
of  the  captives  is  not  guaranteed.  “I  cannot  admit  the  pre¬ 
text,”  he  says,  “that  the  Indians  have  the  right  to  retain  these 
prisoners,  because  I  would  never  permit  a  savage  to  tell  me 
that  any  Christian  prisoner  is  at  his  disposal.”2  From  Dud¬ 
ley’s  point  of  view,  it  seemed  absurd  for  the  Governor-Gen¬ 
eral  of  New  France  to  declare  that  he  could  not  compel  the 
Indians  to  give  up  their  English  captives. 

The  difficulties  of  his  position  will  be  better  understood,  if 
we  remember  that  he  had  made  the  savages  his  tools,  by  prom¬ 
ising  them  a  chance  to  avenge  themselves  upon  the  English. 
Receiving  no  satisfaction  from  the  French  governor,  Dud¬ 
ley,  the  last  of  September,  proposed  to  his  council  that  “Ar¬ 
thur  Jeffrey,  being  attended  with  two  French  prisoners  of 
war,  be  sent  by  way  of  Saint  John’s  River  to  Quebeck,  with 
letters  to  the  governor,  referring  to  the  English  prisoners 
there  and  to  concert  a  method  of  exchange.” 

The  departure  of  Jeffrey  was  doubtless  prevented  by  the 
arrival  of  Jonn  Sheldon  at  Boston.  He  was  attended  by 
young  John  Wells  of  Deerfield,  whose  mother,  Hepzibah 
Belding,  was  one  of  the  captives.  On  Wednesday,  Dec.  13th, 
1704,  the  governor  acquainted  his  council  that  he  had  re¬ 
ceived  no  answer  to  his  letter  sent  the  preceding  summer  to 
the  governor  of  Quebec,  relating  to  the  English  prisoners, 
and  that  “it  was  doubtful  if  those  letters  found  safe  convey¬ 
ance,”  . “as  also  that  John  Sheldon  and  John  Wells  of 

Deerfield,  who  both  had  relations  in  captivity  there,  were 
now  attending  him,  and  very  urgent  to  have  license  to  trav- 

'Dudley  to  De  Vaudreuil,  April  10,  1704  /  B.  P.  Poore  Coll. 

2  “  “  “  Aug.  21,  “  [  in  Mass.  Archives. 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


173 


ail  thither,  their  being  also  two  French  prisoners  used  to  that 
Rhode,  who  have  their  relations  here,  that  are  willing  to  ac¬ 
company  the  said  Englishmen  with  his  Excellency’s  letters, 
and  to  see  them  safely  returned  at  the  peril  of  having  their 
near  relations  here  exposed.” 

His  Excellency  proposed  the  conveying  them  by  water  to 
Casco,  thence  to  take  the  direct  course  through  the  country 
to  Quebec  “in  order  to  find  out  how  many  prisoners  are  in 
that  country  and  to  make  way  for  their  release  in  the  spring.” 

Fortunately  for  John  Sheldon,  within  the  week  Capt.  Liv¬ 
ingston  of  New  York  appeared  in  Boston,  and 
“At  a  Council  held  in  Boston  on  Tuesday,  Dec.  19,  1704,  His  Ex¬ 
cellency  acquainted  the  Council,  that  since  their  last  setting  and 

advice  for  sending  messengers  to  Quebec . to  negotiate  the 

affair  about  the  Exchange  of  Prisoners,  he  had  discoursed  that  mat¬ 
ter  with  Capt.  John  Livingston  now  in  town  who  had  been  several 
times  there,  was  well  acquainted  in  the  severall  parts  and  the  way 
thither  from  the  upper  towns  of  this  province  which  he  accounted 
to  be  more  safe  than  to  Travaile  through  the  Eastern  Country’s  and 
that  said  Livingston  would  undertake  that  service  accompanyed 
with  Mr.  Shelden  and  Wells  without  any  Frenchmen  to  have  a  hun¬ 
dred  pounds  for  his  sirvice  and  his  expenses  borne.  Upon  consid¬ 
eration  of  the  greater  safety  and  certainty  of  this  way  and  the  charge 
saved  of  a  vessel  and  men  that  must  necessarily  be  Employed  the 
other  way,  besides  the  fitting  out  the  Frenchmen,  and  the  incon- 
veniencies  that  might  happen  upon  their  going  :  as  also  the  accom¬ 
plishment  of  Capt.  Livingston  for  such  a  service.  It  was  Advised 
that  he  be  Imployed  accordingly  and  his  Excellency  communicated 
his  letters  to  the  Governor  of  Canada  to  be  sent  by  them.”1 

Duplicates  of  Dudley’s  letters  sent  and  unanswered  during 
the  preceding  summer,  were  prepared  and  with  them  the 
following  :2 

’Council  Records,  Vol.  dated  1703-8,  p.  128,  Mass.  Archives. 

2B.  P.  Poore  Coll.  Vol.  5,  p.  215. 


174 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


“Boston,  Dec.  20,  1704. 

Sir  : 

The  enclosed1  were  sent  some  time  since  by  way  of 
Albany  ;  but  fearing  that  they  have  miscarried  I  send  you  herewith 

Messrs.  Livingston  and  Sheldon  envoys,  with  John  Wells, . to 

carry  you  this  and  to  inform  you  that  I  have  in  my  hands  about  150 
prisoners . On  the  return  of  my  envoys  with  a  list  of  my  cap¬ 

tives  whom  you  have  in  your  hands,  I  would  willingly  have  yours 

transported  this  spring  as  far  as  Penobscot . Should  the 

winter  be  so  severe  as  to  oblige  my  envoys  to  remain  until  the  rigor 
of  winter  is  passed,  you  will  if  agreeable  to  you,  send  an  Indian  to 
the  fort  at  Casco  Bay  with  a  letter  informing  me  when  and  where  I 
may  send  a  shallop  to  meet  yours  from  Quebec,  in  order  that  the 

exchange  may  be  made . You  will  have  the  goodness  to  let 

my  envoys  return  as  soon  as  they  can  safely  do  so,  with  your  de¬ 
cision  on  this  subject,  in  order  that  I  may  have  your  prisoners  ready 
to  deliver  up  on  receipt  of  your  reply  in  regard  to  those  of  my  peo¬ 
ple  now  in  your  hands  :  and  to  grant  my  envoys  opportunity  for 
the  freest  conference  with  you  as  to  what  is  most  advantageous  in 
this  business. 

I  am  with  all  respect,  Sir, 
your  very  humble  and  obedient  servant.” 

With  these  credentials,  Sheldon  and  his  companions  took 
the  Bay  Path  for  Deerfield,2  tarrying  at  Hatfield  on  the  way 
to  procure  their  outfit  of  Colonel  Partridge. 

I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  stir  in  the  village  when 
it  was  known  that  Mr.  Sheldon  was  there,  en  route  for  Cana¬ 
da,  as  an  agent  of  the  government  in  behalf  of  the  suffering 
town.  Pausing  only  for  a  brief  good-bye,  burdened  with 
messages  of  love  to  the  dear  ones  in  bondage,  and  followed 

‘Duplicates  of  Dudley’s  April  and  August  letters  to  De  Vaudreuil. 

2The  “Bay  Path,”  followed  the  present  Boston  and  Albany  railroad  to 
Springfield;  thence  via  Hatfield  to  Deerfield.  Thence  the  envoys  proceeded 
over  Hoosac  Mountain  to  Albany.  A  guide  post  in  Deerfield  still  points  the 
way  “To  Albany.” 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


175 


by  the  blessings  of  all,  the  party  pushed  on  over  Hoosac 
Mountain  to  Albany.  We  have  a  glimpse  of  them  there,  be¬ 
fore  they  plunge  into  the  pathless  forest,  in  a  scrap  of  paper 
containing  an  account,  on  which  in  Sheldon’s  hand-writing, 
is  endorsed,  “what  i  paid  to  captain  levenston  at  hotsoen 
river.” 

We  need  not  go  back  to  King  Arthur  for  exploits  of  chiv¬ 
alry  ;  our  colonial  history  is  full  of  them.  This  man,  long 
past  the  daring  impulses  of  youth  ;  this  youth,  whose  life  was 
all  before  him  ;  show  me  two  braver  knights-errant  setting 
out  with  loftier  purpose  on  a  more  perilous  pilgrimage. 

Three  hundred  miles  of  painful  and  unaccustomed  tramp¬ 
ing  on  snow-shoes  in  mid-winter,  over  mountain  and  morass, 
through  tangled  thickets  and  “snow-clogged  forest,”  where 
with  fell  purpose  the  cruel  savage  lurked  ;  with  gun  in  hand, 
and  pack  on  back,  now  wading  knee-deep  over  some  rapid 
stream,  now  in  the  teeth  of  the  fierce  north  wind,  toiling 
over  the  slippery  surface  of  the  frozen  lake,  now  shuffling 
tediously  along  in  the  sodden  ice  of  some  half-thawed  river; 
digging  away  the  drifts  at  night  for  his  camp  ;  wet,  lame, 
half-famished  and  chilled  to  the  bone,  hardly  daring  to  kindle 
a  fire ;  a  bit  of  dried  meat  from  his  pack  for  a  supper,  spruce 
boughs  for  his  bed;  crouching  there  wrapped  in  his  blanket, 
his  head  muffled  in  the  hood  of  his  capote,  eye  and  ear  alert, 
his  mittened  hand  grasping  the  hilt  of  the  knife  at  his  belt ; 
up  at  daybreak  and  on  again,  through  storm  and  sleet,  pelted 
by  pitiless  rains,  or  blinded  by  whirling  snow :  what  iron 
will  and  nerves  of  steel,  sound  mind  in  sound  body,  to  dare 
and  do  what  this  man  did. 

Of  the  date  of  John  Sheldon’s  arrival  in  Canada,  we  are 
ignorant.  We  can  only  guess  at  the  impressions  of  the  sturdy 
Puritan  yeoman  as  he  first  stood  upon  the  rock  of  Quebec, 
surrounded  by  “the  appendages  of  an  old  established  civil¬ 
ization.”  Strange  sights  and  sounds  must  have  greeted  him 


176  TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


as  he  sat  in  his  inn  on  the  great  square.  The  “noisy  bush¬ 
ranger”  and  the  “befeathered  Indian”  swaggered  about  the 
door.  “Plumed  officers,”  with  squads  of  soldiers  in  slouched 
hats,  and  “arquebus  on  shoulder,”  marched  quickly  at  tap  of 
drum  up  to  the  fort.  Processions  bearing  relics  of  the  saints, 
filed  in  at  the  cathedral  door, — the  gaunt  Jesuit  in  black  cas¬ 
sock  and  rosary,  the  gray  gown  of  the  Recollet  friar,  the 
Seminary  priest  in  sable  robe,  with  his  band  of  boys  in  blue, 
pale  nuns  in  white  cornets  and  clad  in  serge,  with  their 
pupils,  among  whom  is  more  than  one  English  face.  News  of 
his  arrival  spread  up  and  down  the  river,  “reviving  the 
drooping  spirits  of  the  captives.”  Far  different  was  its  ef¬ 
fect  upon  their  captors.  Stephen  Williams,  the  minister’s 
son,  was  in  the  hands  of  a  St.  Francis  Indian,  who  demanded 
forty  crowns  for  his  ransom.  Mr.  Williams  had  prevailed 
upon  the  governor  to  offer  thirty.  The  savage  stood  out, 
and,  leaving  the  boy  with  his  wife,  went  off  to  hunt.  “When 
Mr.  Sheldon  was  come  to  Canada,”  says  Stephen  in  his  ac¬ 
count,1  “my  mistress  thought  there  would  be  an  exchange  of 
prisoners,  and  lest  the  French  should  then  take  me  away  for 
nothing,  she  removed  up  in  ye  woods  about  half  a  mile  from 
ye  river,  y1  if  they  came  they  might  not  find  me.”  Having 
offended  her  a  few  days  after,  by  slighting  some  heavy  work 
given  him  to  do,  “the  squaw,”  says  the  eleven-years-old  child, 
“was  very  angry.  ‘I  will  not  beat  you  myself,’  says  she,  ‘for 
my  husband  ordered  me  to  the  contrary,  but  will  tell  ye  jes- 

uit,  ye  next  time  he  comes.’ . Within  a  day  or  two  ye 

jesuit  comes,  she  was  as  good  as  her  word,  did  complain  ;  he 
takes  me  out  and  whips  me  wth  a  whip  wth  six  cords,  several 
knots  in  each  cord.” 

As  soon  as  possible,  the  envoys  delivered  their  letters  to  the 
governor,  by  whose  permission  Mr.  Williams  came  up  from 

'Narrative  of  the  captivity  of  Stephen  Williams,  written  by  himself.  Ed¬ 
ited  by  Hon.  George  Sheldon,  1889. 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


1 77 


Chateau-Richer,  where  he  had  been  sent  to  prevent  his  in¬ 
terference  with  the  conversion  of  his  people  by  the  Jesuits. 
From  him  Sheldon  heard  that  his  children  were  living,  and 
John  Wells  learned  the  sad  tidings  of  his  mother’s  murder. 
He  told  them  the  harrowing  tale  of  the  march  to  Canada, 
and  the  details  of  the  captivity.  Deacon  Sheldon  was  greatly 
exercised  by  his  account  of  the  craft  and  cruelty  employed 
by  the  French  “to  ensnare  the  young,  and  to  turn  them  from 
the  simplicity  of  the  Gospel  to  Romish  superstition.” 

Mr.  Williams  doubtless  accompanied  the  envoys  to  their 
first  audience  with  the  governor.  The  good  deacon,  in  his 
home-spun  garments,  must  have  felt  himself  in  strange  con¬ 
trast  with  the  other  occupants  of  the  council  hall  ;  the  gov¬ 
ernor  majestic  and  surrounded  by  the  brilliant  uniforms  of 
his  guard  ;  the  haughty  intendant ;  popinjay  pages  loitering 
about,  stern  old  warriors  bedecked  with  medals,  gay  young 
sprigs  of  the  nobility  in  elegant  apparel,  “Jesuits,  like  black 
spectres,  gliding  in  and  out.”  As  Mr.  Williams  saw  the  dig¬ 
nity  of  his  fellow-townsman,  unabashed  by  all  this  parade, 
he  perhaps  thought  of  the  proverb,  “Seest  thou  a  man  dili¬ 
gent  in  his  business,  he  shall  stand  before  kings  ;  he  shall  not 
stand  before  mean  men.” 

The  deputies  received  little  satisfaction  from  their  con¬ 
ferences  with  the  governor.  “God’s  time  of  deliverance,” 
says  Mr.  Williams,  “was  not  yet  come.”  Monsieur  de  Vau- 
dreuil  was  civil  and  diplomatic.  He  .says  that  the  Indians 
are  his  allies,  not  his  subjects ;  he  has,  therefore,  no  real 
right  to  demand  the  captives  from  them.  They  might  per¬ 
haps  be  ransomed,  but,  “knowing  Monsieur  Dudley’s  resolu¬ 
tion  not  to  ‘set  up  an  Algiers  trade’  by  the  purchase  of  pris¬ 
oners,”  he  dares  not  take  the  responsibility.  As  to  an  ex¬ 
change  of  those  in  the  hands  of  the  French,  he  hardly  sees 
what  basis  for  that  can  be  arranged,  since  he  learns  by  the 
list  of  French  prisoners  sent  him  that  the  governor  of  Bos- 


i  ;8 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


ton  has  permitted  some  Port  Royalists,  who  should  have 
been  sent  home  with  the  exchange,  to  embark  for  the  West 
Indies.  Moreover,  there  is  Baptiste. 

The  days  passed  in  alternation  of  hope  and  discourage¬ 
ment.  Fair  promises  were  succeeded  by  evasion  and  delay. 
Mr.  Williams  was  refused  permission  to  go  up  to  Montreal 
to  talk  with  his  children  and  neighbors,  and  sent  back  to 
Chateau-Richer. 

Leaving  Mr.  Sheldon  to  push  the  search  for  his  children 
and  the  other  captives,  many  of  whom  had  been  put  out  of 
sight,  Mr.  Livingston  set  out  for  Boston  on  the  18th  of  March 
to  state  the  situation  of  affairs  and  carry  De  Vaudreuil’s  let¬ 
ter  to  the  governor,  but  returned  to  Quebec  on  the  26th,  the 
ice  being  unsafe.  On  the  29th,  Mr.  Sheldon  received  a  let¬ 
ter  from  his  son’s  wife  in  Montreal,  which  probably  gave 
him  the  first  definite  intelligence  of  his  children.  It  appears 
to  have  enclosed  a  letter  from  one  of  her  fellow-captives, 
who,  on  indirect  evidence,  I  assume  to  be  James  Adams,  cap¬ 
tured  at  Wells,  in  1703,  with  Samuel  Hills  and  others.  Of 
the  letter  and  its  enclosure,  only  the  following  scrap,  in  a 
beautiful  hand-writing,  remains : 

“I  pray  you  my  kind  loue  to  Landlord  Shelden,  and  tell  Him  I 
am  sorry  for  all  his  Los.  I  doe  in  these  few  lines  showe  youe  that 
God  has  shone  yo  grat  kindness  and  marcy,  In  carrying  your  Daigh- 
ter  Hanna,  and  Mary  in  partickeler  through  soe  grat  a  iorney  far 
behiend  my  expectations  noing  how  Lame  they  was,  the  Rest  of 
your  children  are  with  the  Indians.  Remembrance  lives  near  ca- 
bect,  Hannah  does  Liues  with  the  frenc  In  the  same  house  I  doe.” 

Mr.  Sheldon’s  reply  to  his  daughter-in-law  is  dated : 

“Quebec  the  1  of  Aperl,  1705. 

der  child 

this  is  to  let  you  noe  that  i  received  yours  the  29th  of  March 

which  was  a  comfort  to  me . I  am  whele,  blessed  be  God  for 

it,  and  i  may  tell  you  i  dont  here  of  my  child  as  it  [yet],  the  saye 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


179 


is  that  he  is  in  the  vvodes  a  hunten.  remember  my  loue  to  Mr.  Ad- 
dams  and  his  wif  and  iudah  Writ  and  all  the  reste  as  if  named  and 
my  harty  desire  is  that  god  would  in  his  own  good  time  opene  a  dore 
of  deliuerans  fore  you  al,  and  the  meanwhile  let  us  wait  with  pa- 
tiens  one  God  for  it,  hoe  can  bring  lite  out  of  darkness  and  let  us 
cast  al  our  care  one  god  who  doeth  care  for  us  and  can  helpe  us 
Mr  Williams  is  sent  down  the  riuer  agane  eighteen  or  twenty  miles, 

I  did  enjoy  his  company  about  three  wekes,  whch  was  a  comfort  to 
me,  he  giues  his  loue  to  al  the  captives  there.  My  desire  is  that  Mr 
Addams  and  you  wod  doe  al  you  can  with  your  mistress  that  my 
children  mite  be  redeemed  from  the  Indanes.  Our  post  returned 
bake  again  in  8  days  by  reson  of  the  badnes  of  the  ise,  they  goe 
again  the  seckont  of  this  month,  and  i  desire  to  com  up  to  Montreal 
the  beginen  of  May.  John  Weis  and  Ebenezer  Warner  giues  ther 
loue  to  al  the  captiues  ther,  and  so  rites  your  louen  father 

John  Sheldon.” 

Between  the  date  of  the  above  and  the  seventh,  on  which 
the  post  is  to  start  again,  Mr.  Sheldon  is  busy  writing  letters. 
The  following,  dated  April  2d,  1705,  is  the  remnant  of  that 
sent  by  this  post  to  his  son  John,  at  Deerfield  : 

“deer  child  this  fue  lines  are  to  let  you  noe  i  am  in  good  helth  at 
this  time  blessed  be  God  for  it.  i  may  tell  you  that  we  sent  away 
a  post  the  18th  day  of  March,  they  ware  gone  8  days  and  returned 
a  gane  by  reson  that  the  ise  was  soe  bad.  this  may  let  you  noe  1 
receiued  a  letter  from  your  wife  the  29th  of  March  and  she  was 
whel.  i  may  let  you  noe  i  haint  sene  none  of  my  children  but  here 
they  are  gone  a  hunten.” 

On  the  7th  of  April,  Samuel  Hills  of  Wells,  who  gladly 
gave  his  parole  for  the  opportunity  of  visiting  his  friends, 
accompanied  by  two  Frenchmen  named  Dubois,  set  out  for 
Boston  with  letters  from  the  envoys  and  the  governor  of  Can¬ 
ada.  They  went  across  the  country  and  down  the  Kennebec 
to  Casco  bay,  arriving  at  Piscataqua  on  the  4th  of  May ;  and 
on  the  15th,  the  letters  brought  by  them  were  communicated 
by  the  governor  at  Boston  to  his  council.  De  Vaudreuil  re- 


i8o 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


criminates  in  detail  the  accusations  of  the  duplicate  letters 
sent  by  Sheldon,  “not  having  received  them  by  Albany.” 
Reiterating  obstacles,  and  stating  his  terms  for  the  return 
of  the  captives,  he  adds:  “Mr.  Livingston  is  a  very  worthy 
man,  with  whom  I  could  soon  agree  upon  an  exchange,  were 
not  his  powers  limited.  If  you  were  sole  in  command  in  New 
England,  as  I  am  here,  I  should  not  have  hesitated  to  take 
your  word,  and  it  would  really  have  given  me  great  pleasure 
to  return  to  you  by  him  all  your  prisoners.  But  as  you  have 
a  Council,  whose  opinions  are  often  divided,  and  in  which 
you  have  but  one  vote,  you  must  not  take  it  ill  that  I  demand 
a  guaranty  for  the  return  of  the  prisoners  on  your  side,  more 
especially  because  I,  on  my  side,  having  absolute  authority, 
am  always  able  to  keep  my  pledged  word.”1 

The  persistent  importunities  of  Mr.  Sheldon  and  Mr.  Wil¬ 
liams,  aided  by  the  friendly  offices  of  Captain  de  Beauville, 
an  officer  of  high  rank,  brought  about  the  ransom  of  the 
minister’s  daughter  Esther,  one  of  Sheldon’s  children,  his 
son's  wife  and  two  others  unknown.  The  governor  also  pur¬ 
chased  Stephen  Williams  from  his  Indian  master,  and  Liv¬ 
ingston  told  him  at  Sorel  he  was  to  go  home  with  him, 
“which,”  says  the  boy,  “revived  me  very  much  to  think  of 
going  home,  but  the  governor  quickly  altered  his  mind  said 
I  must  not  go.” 

In  the  first  days  of  May,  the  envoys,  with  their  five  re¬ 
deemed  captives,  set  out  on  their  journey  home.  The  Sieur 
de  Courtemanche,  a  distinguished  officer,  with  eight  French 
soldiers,  accompanied  them  as  escort,  carrying  duplicates  of 
the  governor’s  letters  already  forwarded  by  Hills.  Shortly 
after  the  departure,  four  young  men,  Thomas  Baker,  John 
Nims,  Martin  Kellogg  and  Joseph  Petty,  disappointed  at  not 

’Letter  of  De  Vaudreuil  to  Dudley,  Quebec  March  26,  1705,  in  answer  to 
those  of  Dudley,  sent  by  Sheldon  and  Livingston.  B.  B.  Poore  Coll.  Vol.  5, 
p.  221,  in  Mass.  Archives. 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


1 8 1 


having  liberty  to  go  home  with  Mr.  Sheldon,  escaped  from 
Montreal,  and  after  terrible  suffering  reached  Deerfield  in 
June,  in  an  almost  dying  state. 

Livingston  and  the  French  escort  were  probably  left  at 
Albany ;  Hannah  Chapin  Sheldon,  safely  returned  to  her  fa¬ 
ther’s  house  in  Springfield  ;  and  Ensign  Sheldon  with  the 
Sieur  de  Courtemanche,  hurried  on  to  Boston,  where  they 
must  have  arrived  before  June  5th,  as  a  committee  was  ap¬ 
pointed  on  that  date  to  audit  their  accounts,  “and  to  do  it 
with  all  speed.” 

Hannah  wrote  from  Springfield  to  her  husband,  on  the 
1 6th,  that  “she  should  be  very  glad  to  see  him,”  and  shortly 
after,  she  and  the  others  were  re-united  to  their  friends  in 
Deerfield.  By  his  artful  selection  of  a  few  captives  for  re¬ 
lease,  De  Vaudreuil  had  quieted  Mr.  Williams,  and  rid  him¬ 
self  of  John  Sheldon  for  a  time.  It  is  not  probable  that  he 
expected  Dudley  to  accept  the  terms  offered  by  his  messen¬ 
ger.  The  sending  of  Courtemanche  with  these  instructions 
was  done  with  the  wily  intent  to  gain  time  to  rivet  his  pris¬ 
oners’  chains  more  strongly,  and,  as  he  himself  avows  in  his 
report  of  the  matter  to  the  king,  “to  make  himself  acquaint¬ 
ed  with  the  country.” 

These  instructions  were:1  to  be  inflexible  in  his  demands 
for  Baptiste,  “without  whom  there  could  be  no  exchange;” 
to  demand  the  return  of  all  the  French  prisoners  in  New 
England  to  Port  Royal,  giving  his  parole,  that  immediately 
upon  information  of  their  arrival  there,  all  the  English  held 
by  the  French,  (there  is  no  mention  of  those  in  savage  hands,) 
should  be  released  and  furnished  with  provisions  and  trans¬ 
portation  for  their  return;  to  demand  guarantees  for  the  re¬ 
turn  of  those  Acadians  who  had  been  allowed  to  go  else¬ 
where;  to  demand  justice  for  an  alleged  murder  of  six 

*B.  P.  Poore  Coll.  Vol.  5,  p.  229,  in  Mass.  Archives. 


182 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


Frenchmen;  and,  finally,  to  demand  the  release  of  one  Al- 
lain,  who,  it  was  pretended,  had  been  sent  by  the  governor 
of  Port  Royal  to  negotiate  an  exchange,  but  who  was  held 
as  a  spy,  his  passport  not  being  forthcoming. 

On  the  14th  of  June,  1705,  “His  Excellency  acquainted  the 
council  with  the  advances  he  had  made  in  his  proposals  to 

Mr.  Courtemanche,  relating  to  the  exchange . and  that 

the  whole  affair  stuck  at  Baptiste,  which  Mr.  Courtemanche 
insisted  on  as  a  particular  article  in  his  instructions,  and  de¬ 
clined  to  do  anything  unless  Baptiste  was  included.”  The 
governor  asks  advice  of  his  council,  and  desires  “that  cer¬ 
tain  of  them  with  the  Representatives  take  the  matter  into 
consideration,  without  speaking  of  the  same  without  doors.” 
The  following  day,  the  representatives  sent  a  message  to 
the  governor  “That  he  should  use  his  utmost  endeavors  to 
obtain  the  exchange  without  releasing  of  Baptiste.  But  if 
finally  it  cannot  be  obtained  without,  that  Baptiste  be  ex¬ 
changed  Rather  than  our  Captives  be  retained  in  the  hands 
of  the  Enemy.”1 

Notwithstanding  the  injunction  of  secrecy,  it  was  noised 
abroad  that  the  governor  intended  to  give  up  Baptiste. 
Whereupon  a  strong  remonstrance  against  his  release,  was 
sent  by  the  leading  “merchants  and  sailors”  of  Boston.2  “If 
there  were  nothing  else  but  the  urgency  of  the  French  de¬ 
manding  him,  it  is  a  sufficient  reason  why  we  should  pre¬ 
serve  him  to  ourselves,”  they  say.  After  much  fruitless  dis¬ 
cussion,  Dudley  in  his  turn  drew  up  proposals  for  the  ex¬ 
change.  Courtemanche  falling  sick,  or  perhaps  indisposed 
to  return  on  foot,  Captain  Vetch,  with  an  eye  to  trade  at  Que¬ 
bec,  offered  to  go  with  his  vessel  and  convey  him  home. 
Courtemanche,  who  seems  to  have  made  himself  agreeable 

'June  15,  1705,  Council  Records,  Vol.  71,  p.  145. 


’Council  Records,  Vol.  71,  p.  152. 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


183 


in  Boston,1  urged  the  governor  to  let  his  son,  William  Dud¬ 
ley,  a  young  man  of  eighteen,  bear  him  company  to  Quebec 
and  return  on  the  same  vessel.  Glad  of  an  opportunity  to 
acquire  information  and  hoping  thereby  to  obtain  the  release 
of  some,  the  governor  consented.  “Bread,  Beer,  Flesh  and 
Pease  for  a  twenty  days’  ”  voyage  are  ordered  aboard  Cap¬ 
tain  Vetch’s  vessel,  with  “a  Hoggsliead  of  good  wine  as  a 
present  to  the  Governor  of  Quebec.”  The  two  Dubois  are 
sent  home  by  land  ;  Courtemanche  orders  Samuel  Hills  to 
accompany  him  by  sea.  Dudley’s  dispatches2  are  dated  Bos¬ 
ton  the  4-15  July,  1705,  and  probably  the  vessel  sails  the  next 
day. 

Concerning  the  exchange,  Dudley  makes  all  proper  con¬ 
cessions.  It  may  take  place  at  Mount  Desert,  whither  he 
will  send  all  the  French  prisoners  on  any  day  when  De  Vau- 
dreuil  will  send  the  English  there.  He  will  buy  none  from 
the  Indians,  but  if  they  are  not  at  once  rescued  from  them, 
he  will  retaliate  and  “your  people  will  be  reduced  to  accom¬ 
modate  themselves  to  a  savage  life  as  well  as  mine.”  He  re¬ 
sents  the  insinuation  that  his  authority  is  limited  ;  he  will 
send  Allain  home,  and  with  him,  in  exchange  for  the  two 
girls  Mr.  Livingston  brought  back,  two  strong  men  of  Port 
Royal,  captives  here.  “As  to  Baptiste  I  think  Monsieur  de 
Courtemanche  has  learned  so  many  things  about  his  dastard¬ 
ly  conduct  that  you  will  agree  with  me  that  he  is  a  rascal  who 
does  not  deserve  that  you  should  want  him  back,  and  per¬ 
haps  you  will  think  he  is  not  worth  my  keeping,  wherefore 

'Sewall’s  Diary,  Vol.  2,  pp.  133-4  has  the  following:  “July  4,  Comencement 

Day,  I  go  by  Water . Capt.  Courtmaruh  was  there,  and  din’d  in  the 

Hall.”  A  footnote  by  the  Editor  says  “This  name  is  utterly  strange  and  mys¬ 
terious.  We  have  no  clew  to  the  person  intended.”  Evidently  this  was  the 
Sieurde  Courtemanche,  whose  illness  may  have  been  the  result  of  his  Com¬ 
mencement  festivities,  c.  A.  B. 


5B.  P.  Poore  Coll,  in  Mass.  Archives. 


184 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


I  have  resolved  to  send  him  with  the  others  to  the  place  of 
rendezvous,  if  the  articles  are  accepted,  and  there  will  be  an 
end  of  that  business.”1 

Not  doubting  that  his  terms  will  be  accepted,  he  desires 
that  his  son  may  see  the  captives  and  help  them  to  a  speedy 
return,  for  fear  that  winter  may  overtake  them.  In  case  Mr. 
Williams  should  not  wish  to  come  with  the  others,  if  the 
governor  will  let  him  return  with  Captain  Vetch,  Dudley 
will  provide  an  equally  distinguished  escort  for  any  French 
gentlemen  who  may  be  prisoners  in  Boston. 

The  arrival  of  an  English  vessel  in  the  St.  Lawrence  made 
a  great  stir.  De  Vaudreuil  at  first  ordered  her  anchored 
fifteen  leagues  down  the  river,  but  finally  had  her  brought 
up  to  Quebec,  her  sails  removed  and  a  guard  put  on  board. 

The  details  of  young  Dudley’s  sojourn  in  Quebec  and  the 
correspondence  between  Canada  and  the  court  of  France  on 
that  subject  are  of  exciting  interest,  but  having  no  imme¬ 
diate  connection  with  the  Deerfield  prisoners,  must  be  omitted 
here.  De  Vaudreuil  treated  the  Boston  gentlemen  politely 
and  allowed  them  entire  liberty  in  Quebec,  but  the  wary  in- 
tendant  makes  a  merit  of  watching  them  closely  during  their 
stay  in  Montreal. 

Mr.  Williams  came  up  from  Chateau-Richer  to  see  them, 
and  was  supplied  by  Captain  Vetch  with  money,  but  continu¬ 
ing  to  argue  in  season  and  out  of  season  against  Popery,  he 
was  sent  back  again.  His  son  Stephen,  Jonathan  Hoit  and 
a  few  others  were  allowed  to  go  home  with  Mr.  Dudley, 
whose  negotiations  towards  the  exchange  were  entirely  un¬ 
successful.  After  a  tedious  voyage  they  reached  Boston, 
where  they  had  been  long  expected,  on  the  21st  of  Novem¬ 
ber,  1705. 

William  Dudley  was  the  bearer  of  new  proposals  to  his 
father  from  the  Canadian  government,  which  not  only  in- 

1  Dudley’s  weariness  of  this  subject  is  here  very  apparent. 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


I85 


eluded  a  full  exchange,  but  were  virtually  a  treaty  of  peace 
between  the  French  and  English  in  America,  with  the  stip¬ 
ulation  however,  that  “if  not  signed  by  the  governors  of  Bos¬ 
ton,  New  York  and  all  other  special  English  governors  be¬ 
fore  the  end  of  February,  the  articles  should  be  null  and 
void.”  The  articles  were  rejected  by  the  assembly  and 
council  at  Boston,  as  not  “consistent  with  her  majesty’s  hon¬ 
or,”  and  with  thanks  to  Dudley  for  his  past  endeavors,  it 
was  left  to  him,  upon  advice  with  Lord  Cornbury,  to  answer 
De  Vaudreuil.  To  avoid  their  subsistence  during  the  win¬ 
ter,  and  to  set  an  example  of  generosity,  Dudley  early  in 
December,  sent  home  fifty-seven  Port  Royal  captives,  re¬ 
taining  Baptiste  and  others  of  importance. 

On  the  17th  of  January,  1706,  the  governor  read  to  his 
council  his  answer  to  De  Vaudreuil’s  proposals,  “to  be  des¬ 
patched  to  Quebec  by  Mr.  John  Sheldon,  attended  with  a 
servant  or  two,  and  accompanied  by  two  French  prisoners 
of  war.” 

Mr.  Sheldon  now  appears  upon  the  stage  as  a  full  fledged 
ambassador.  His  attendants  were  John  Wells  and  Joseph 
Bradley,  a  Haverhill  man,  whose  wife  was  languishing  in 
her  second  captivity.  They  left  Deerfield  on  the  25th  of 
January,  taking  the  same  route  as  before,  another  dreary 
winter  journey.  They  arrived  at  Quebec  in  the  beginning 
of  March.  Mr.  Williams  went  up  again  for  a  few  days  to 
see  Mr.  Sheldon,  and  doubtless  told  him  with  indignation, 
the  vigorous  efforts  of  the  priests  to  gain  proselytes  after 
Mr.  Dudley’s  departure.  “When  Mr.  Sheldon  came  the  sec¬ 
ond  time,”  says  Mr.  Williams,  “the  adversaries  did  what 
they  could  to  retard  the  time  of  our  return,  to  gain  time  to 
seduce  our  young  ones  to  Popery.”1 

Although  the  dispatches  carried  by  Mr.  Sheldon  were  not 
satisfactory  to  De  Vaudreuil,  he  could  oppose  nothing  to  Mr. 

Il‘The  Redeemed  Captive,”  Sixth  Ed.,  p.  113. 


TRUE  STORIES  OB’  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES 


1 86 


Sheldon’s  arguments,  that  he  was  in  honor  bound  to  release 
some  captives  in  return  for  those  already  sent  home  by 
Dudley,  and  he  at  last  reluctantly  consented  to  release  for¬ 
ty-three.1 

Captain  Thomas  More  in  his  boat,  the  Marie,  was  to  take 
them  as  far  as  Port  Royal,  with  orders  to  the  governor  of 
Acadia  to  retain  them  there  until  “all  the  French  prisoners 
without  distinction”  should  be  returned  to  Port  Royal. 
Meantime  the  Marie  was  to  proceed  to  Boston  with  Mr.  Shel¬ 
don  and  his  attendants,  the  two  Frenchmen  also  returning 
with  De  Vaudreuil’s  ultimatum. 

The  Marie  must  have  sailed  soon  after  June  2d,  the  date 
of  the  governor’s  letter.2  She  evidently  stopped  at  Port 
Royal,  for  we  have  John  Sheldon’s  account  there  of  his 
“pocket  expenses:  the  Doctor  for  John  Wells,”  and  “for  two 
blankets  and  other  things  for  ye  captives.” 

Whether  Monsieur  de  Brouillant  assumed  the  responsibil¬ 
ity  of  forwarding  the  captives  with  Mr.  Sheldon,  or  how  it 
was,  we  know  not,  but  there  is  evidence  enough  that  they 
arrived  with  him  in  the  Marie  at  Boston  on  the  first  day  of 
August.  Mr.  Williams,  writing  after  his  own  redemption 
and  before  Mr.  Sheldon’s  third  expedition,  says,  “The  last 
who  came,  in  numbers  between  forty  and  fifty,  with  Mr. 
Sheldon  (a  good  man  and  a  true  servant  of  the  church  in 
Deerfield,  who  twice  took  his  tedious  and  dangerous  journey 
in  the  winter  from  New  England  unto  Canada  on  these  oc¬ 
casions),  came  aboard  at  Quebec,  May  30th,  and  after  nine 
weeks’  difficult  passage,  arrived  at  Boston,  August  1st,  1706.” 
On  the  2d,  Dudley  informed  his  council  of  the  letters  “re¬ 
ceived  yesterday,  from  the  Governor  of  Canada  by  a  Flagg 
of  Truce  with  forty  odd  English  prisoners.”  Who  were  the 

’Letter  from  De  Vaudreuil  to  Dudley  dated  Quebec,  June  2,  1706.  B.  P 
Poore  Coll.  Vol.  5,  p.  295. 

2The  New  Style  had  already  been  adopted  in  Canada. 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


187 


forty  odd  we  know  not.  Sheldon’s  daughter  Mary  was  one; 
James  Adams,  another.  Mr.  Williams  was  still  in  Chateau- 
Richer,  and  the  intendant  threatened  “if  More  brought  word 
that  Battis  was  in  prison,  he  would  put  him  in  prison  and 
lay  him  in  irons.” 

De  Vaudreuil’s  letter  also  threatened  reprisals  if  the  Marie 
did  not  carry  back  tidings  of  Baptiste’s  release.  One  clause 
of  this  letter  shows  John  Sheldon  as  an  honest  government 
official:  “I  have  done  myself  the  pleasure  to  honor  the  letter 
of  credit  you  have  given  to  Mr.  Sheldon  upon  me.  He  has 
used  it  very  modestly,  and  has  demanded  of  me  only  750 
Livres.”  Mr.  Sheldon’s  account  shows  how  the  money  was 
.  expended.  His  landlords  at  Quebec  and  Montreal  got  a 
good  part  of  it.  The  destitute  captives  were  clothed;  other 
interesting  items  are:  “For  a  carriall1  to  goe  to  see  the  cap¬ 
tives  at  the  Mohawk  fort.”  “For  a  canoe  and  men  to  go 
from  Quebec  to  visit  Mr.  Williams.”  “More  paid  to  ye  Bar¬ 
bour  for  me  and  my  men  and  for  my  Blooting.”  “Laid  out 
for  my  deaughter  Mary  for  necessary  cloathing.”  “More  for 
my  darter.” 

Mr.  Sheldon’s  account  being  allowed,  Wells  and  Bradley 
petitioned  to  be  reimbursed  for  sundry  expenditures,  “snow- 
shoes  and  pumps,”  “a  dog  15  shillings,”  and  “besides  there 
was  a  gun  hired  for  the  voyage,  which  said  gun  was  broken 
in  the  discharging.”  Thirty-five  pounds  were  voted  to  Mr. 
Sheldon,  and  twenty  pounds  each  to  the  others  for  their  ser¬ 
vices,  over  and  above  their  outfit.  While  Mr.  Sheldon  was 
settling  his  affairs  in  Boston,  young  John  Sheldon  wrote  him 
as  follows : — 

“Honored  Father  Sheldon  : — After  duty  presented,  these  are 
to  let  you  noe  that  I  reseived  your  letter,  which  we  desire  to  bless 
you  for  it.  pray  give  my  love  with  my  wife’s  to  sister  Mary  and 


'Carriole.  A  Canadian  sleigh. 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


I  88 


all  the  rest  of  the  captives . I  pray  you  to  buy  for  me  a 

paire  of  curtings  and  a  feather  bead,  and  a  greaine  coverlid  and  a 
necklace  of  amber.” . 

No  doubt  these  commissions  were  faithfully  executed,  and 
the  “Old  Indian  House”  was  soon  gladdened  by  the  return 
of  its  master,  and  another  of  the  long-sundered  household. 

A  week  after  the  arrival  of  the  Marie  at  Boston,  the  coun¬ 
cil  advised  Dudley  to  reject  the  proposals  brought  by  her, 
and  “yet  send  away  the  French  prisoners  without  exception 
to  Port  Royal  and  Quebec  and  demand  ours  in  return,  and 
to  send  a  vessel  forthwith  to  Quebec  in  hopes  of  seeing  them 
before  winter.” 

Captain  Bonner  and  his  vessel  were  hired ;  Mr.  Samuel 
Appleton  of  the  council  was  appointed  as  bearer  of  dispatch¬ 
es  ;  and  towards  the  last  of  the  month  the  brigantine  Hope, 
auspicious  name  in  such  a  service,  convoyed  the  Marie  with 
Baptiste,  and  all  but  one  of  the  French  prisoners  out  of  Bos¬ 
ton  harbor.  Narrowly  escaping  shipwreck,  they  reached 
Quebec  about  the  first  of  October.  Mr.  Appleton  appears  to 
have  made  himself  pretty  comfortable  while  the  negotiations 
were  pending,  if  we  may  judge  from  his  tavern  bill,  on  which 
I  find  beef  and  mutton  a  plenty,  with  ducks,  broiled  chickens 
and  according  to  the  fashion  of  that  day,  many  bottles  of 
eau  de  vie }  There  being  no  longer  any  excuse  for  retaining 
Mr.  Williams,  he  and  fifty-six  others,  among  whom  were  his 
two  sons  and  probably  Sheldon’s,  came  home  with  Mr.  Ap¬ 
pleton. 

Mr.  Williams  says  they  left  Quebec  the  25th  of  October, 
but  I  find  by  the  inn-keeper’s  bill  that  Samuel  joined  his  fa¬ 
ther  and  Warham  there  on  the  28th;  that  one  of  the  boys 
was  charged  for  breaking  a  glass  on  the  29th,  and  the  board 
of  the  three  is  charged  up  to  the  31st,  so  that  unless  their 


'Mass.  Archives,  Vol.  71,  p.  248. 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


189 


landlord  was  unusually  rapacious  we  must  take  this  as  the 
day  of  their  departure.  After  a  stormy  passage,  they  reached 
Boston  on  Nov.  21st,  and  were  immediately  sent  for  by 
the  general  court,  then  in  session,  where  their  pitiful  appear¬ 
ance  excited  such  commiseration  that  it  was  at  once  “Re¬ 
solved  that  the  sum  of  twenty  shillings  be  allowed  and  paid 
out  of  the  Publick  Treasury  to  each  of  the  captives  this  day 
returned  from  Canada.”  On  Appleton’s  account,  presented 
after  his  return,  is  the  following  item  which  must  have  made 
him  doubly  welcome  to  good  Mr.  Williams:  “5  English 
Bibles,  which  Capt.  Appleton  carryed  with  him  by  order 
of  ye  governor  and  council  and  given  to  the  captives,  2  £ 
13  s.  6  d.” 

On  his  return  to  Deerfield  after  his  second  expedition, 
John  Sheldon  entered  again  upon  the  town  business.  With¬ 
in  ten  days  after  Mr.  Williams  landed  in  Boston,  he  was 
‘  ‘chosen  a  committee  to  go  down  to  the  Bay  to  treat  with  Mr. 
Williams  about  returning  to  settle  in  Deerfield.”  I  know 
not  whether  to  admire  more,  the  energy  and  courage  of  the 
people,  or  the  fidelity  and  self-sacrifice  of  the  pastor,  in  their 
action  in  this  matter. 

Early  in  1707,  by  a  vote  of  the  town  to  build  a  house  for 
the  minister  “as  big  as  Ensign  Sheldon’s  with  a  lean-to  as 
big  as  may  be  thought  convenient,”  he  was  chosen  on  the 
building  committee.  But  his  country  again  needed  his  ser¬ 
vices,  and  he  was  not  permitted  to  remain  long  with  his  re¬ 
united  family.  On  the  14th  of  January,  Gov.  Dudley  in¬ 
formed  his  council  that  there  were  about  ninety  English  still 
held  by  the  French  and  Indians  of  Canada,  whom  the  gov¬ 
ernor  had  promised  to  return  the  coming  spring,  and  pro¬ 
posed  to  have  “a  Person  Leger  at  Quebec,  to  put  forward 
that  affair,  and  endeavor  that  all  be  sent,  and  that  Mr.  John 
Sheldon  who  has  been  twice  already,  may  be  employed  with 
a  suitable  retinue  to  undertake  a  journey  thither,  on  that 


190 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


service,  if  the  season  will  permit.”  As  we  have  already  seen, 
John  Sheldon  was  not  one  to  permit  the  season  to  stand  in 
the  way  of  his  serving  the  state.  Accordingly,  he  left  Deer¬ 
field  on  the  17th  of  April,  attended  by  Edward  Allen,  Na¬ 
thaniel  Brooks,1  and  Edmund  Rice.  We  have  a  hint  of  how 
it  fared  with  him  on  his  northward  march,  in  this  item  from 
his  account  book:  “Paid  six  livres  to  an  Indian  to  guide  us 
into  the  way  when  bewildered.”  Mr.  Sheldon  was  in  great 
danger  during  this  last  journey  to  Canada,  and  his  sojourn 
there.  The  French  were  exasperated  by  rumors  of  another 
invasion  from  New  England,  and  the  woods  were  full  of 
small  parties  of  Indians,  on  the  war-path  to  the  border  set¬ 
tlements. 

He  arrived  the  nth  of  May.  Plis  reception  there  was  not 
the  most  courteous,  as  we  learn  by  this  letter  from  the  court 
of  Versailles  to  the  governor  of  Canada:  “His  Majesty  ap¬ 
proves  of  your  having  spoken  as  you  did  to  the  man  named 
Scheldin,  whom  that  Governor  (Dudley)  sent  you  by  land,  in 
search  of  the  English  prisoners  at  Quebec,  and  even  if  you 
had  had  him  put  in  prison  with  all  his  suite,  it  would  have 
been  no  great  matter.”2  From  Montreal,  Mr.  .Sheldon  wrote 
on  the  20th  of  June,  that  the  French  were  collecting  forces 
there,  being  alarmed  by  the  report  of  an  approaching  Eng¬ 
lish  fleet.  He  was  not  permitted  to  return  until  this  excite¬ 
ment  had  subsided.  In  mid-summer,  escorted  by  six  soldiers 
under  Monsieur  de  Chambly,3  who  had  secret  orders  to  ac¬ 
quaint  himself  with  the  condition  of  things  at  Orange,  he 
with  seven  more  captives,  came  down  Lake  Champlain  in 
canoes,  arriving  at  Albany  on  the  24th  of  August.  To  Mr. 

‘He  went  to  seek  his  daughter,  captured  Feb.  29,  1703-4. 

-Letter  from  the  French  Minister  to  De  Vaudreuil,  June  6,  1708.  Doc.  pub. 
k  Quebec,  Vol.  II,  p.  488. 

“Brother  of  Hertel  De  Rouville. 


ENSIGN  JOHN  SHELDON. 


I9I 


Sheldon’s  annoyance,  his  escort  were  held  as  prisoners  dur¬ 
ing  their  stay  in  Albany,  by  Col.  Schuyler,  who  knew  from 
friendly  Indians  in  Canada  the  hostile  attitude  of  affairs 
there,  and  he  was  sent  with  them  down  to  Lord  Cornbury  at 
New  York.  Thence  by  Say  brook,  New  London  and  Ston- 
ington,  now  on  horseback  and  now  on  foot,  the  captives  came 
slowly  home,  and  on  the  18th  of  September,  John  Sheldon 
was  in  Boston  and  delivered  his  despatches  to  the  governor 
in  council,  and  gave  a  narrative  of  his  negotiations. 

In  October,  Mr.  Sheldon  is  again  in  Deerfield,  where  he  is 
appointed  to  manage  for  the  town  as  a  petitioner  to  the  Gen¬ 
eral  Court  for  help  towards  Mr.  Williams’s  salary.  His  name 
appears  once  more  on  the  General  Court  records  in  Novem¬ 
ber,  1707,  on  two  petitions  for  aid  in  consideration  of  his  own 
losses,  and  for  his  services  and  those  of  his  attendants  in  his 
last  journey,  “in  which  they  endured  much  fatigue  and  hard¬ 
ship  and  passed  through  great  danger,  sustaining  also  con¬ 
siderable  damage  by  their  absence  from  their  Businesse.” 
In  answer,  he  was  given  fifty  pounds  for  his  services,  thir¬ 
teen  of  which  was  to  be  paid  him  by  a  mulatto  whom  he 
had  brought  out  of  bondage,  and  a  grant  of  three  hundred 
acres,  not  to  exceed  forty  acres  of  meadow  land,  was  made 
him. 

Shortly  after  this  he  removed  to  Hartford,  where,  in  1708, 
he  had  married  a  second  time.  In  1726,  “being  weak  in 
body,  yet  through  God’s  goodness  to  me,  of  sound  mind 
and  memory,”  he  made  his  will,  and  died  in  1734,  at  the  age 
of  seventy-six. 

We  need  not  search  the  rolls  of  heraldry  for  the  pedigree 
of  old  John  Sheldon.  We  have  found  him  a  brave  man,  and 
a  good  citizen,  a  tender  husband  and  a  loving  father,  true 
and  faithful  in  all  his  private  relations  and  public  positions, 
a  pillar  of  the  church  and  state.  What  more  need  we  ask  ? 

The  great  Archbishop  Sheldon  used  to  say  to  the  young 


192 


TRUE  STORIES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  CAPTIVES. 


lords  who  sought  his  advice :  “Be  honest  and  moral  men. 
Do  well  and  rejoice.”  John  Sheldon  was  both.  He  did  well, 
and  his  descendants  may  rejoice. 


k 


True  Stories  of  New  England  Captives  Carried  to  Canada  during  the 
French  and  Indian  War. — Miss  C.  Alice  Baker  of  Cambridge,  Mass.,  has  in 
1897  "jPress  a  book  with  this  title.  The  book  will  contain  thirteen  narratives  of  the 

captives,  a  biographical  sketch  of  Hertel  cle  Rouville  the  leader  of  several  at¬ 
tacks  on  New  England  and  of  Father  Meriel,  the  only  English  speaking  priest  ol 
the  period,  who  was  the  means  of  so  many  captives  remaining  in  Canada.  An 
appendix  will  contain  additional  matter  from  other  sources.^  Illustrated  with 
many  engravings.  To  contain  about  350  pages.  Price,  $3.50,  including  pos 
age.  Orders  may  be  sent  to  C.  Alice  Baker,  Cambridge,  Mass. ;  G.  E.  Little- 
field,  67  Cornhill,  Boston,  or  John  Sheldon,  Greenfield,  Mass. 

True  Stories  of  New  England  Captives  Carried  to  Canada  During  the  Old  French 
and  Indian  Wars.  By  C.  Alice  Baker.  Cambridge.  1897.  Sm.  4to.  pp. 

399.  Price  $3.50.  To  be  obtained  of  C.  Alice  Baker,  Cambridge,  Mass. ;  G. 

E.  Littlefield,  67  Cornhill,  Boston.;  or  of  John  Sheldon,  Greenfield,  Mass. 

Miss  Baker  has  compiled  a  much  needed  book.  In  her  preface  she  say's : 

■“  As  often  as  I  have  read  in  the  annals  of  the  early  settlers  of  New  England 
the  pathetic  words,  ‘  Carried  Captive  to  Canada  whence  they  came  not  back,’  I 
have  longed  to  know  the  fate  of  the  captives.  The  wish  has  become  a  pur¬ 
pose,  and  I  have  taken  upon  myself  a  mission  to  open  the  door  for  their  re¬ 
turn.”  The  author  intends  this  work  to  be  a  sequel  to  the  “  Tragedies  of  the 
Wilderness,”  by  the  late  Samuel  Gardner  Drake,  whose  book  was  published  fifty 
years  ago. 

There  are  thirteen  narratives  in  this  volume.  The  first  is  that  of  Christine 
Otis,  captured  at  Dover,  N.  H.,  of  whom  some  account  is  given  in  the  Register 
for  1851  (page  189) ;  another  is  that  of  Esther  Wheelwright,  a  great  grand¬ 
daughter  of  Rev.  John  Wheelwright,  Who  was  captured  at  Wells,  Me.,  who 
.adopted  the  religion  of  her  captors  and  became  Mother  Superior  of  the  Ur- 


sulines  of  Quebec.  “  Her  varied  fortunes  form  one  of  the  most  romantic  epi¬ 
sodes  in  the  history  of  the  old  French  and  Indian  wars.”  Another  is  that  of 
Eunice  Williams,  daughter  of  Rev.  John  Williams  of  Deerfield,  who  was  cap¬ 
tured  when  ten  years  old.  She  married  an  Indian  and  became  one.  The  ad¬ 
ventures  of  these  and  the  other  New  England  captives  are  very  interesting. 

Many  of  the  details  here  given  have  been  gathered  by  Miss  Baker  from  personal 
visits  to  Canada  and  the  frontiers.  “The  story  of  Miss  Baker’s  journeyings 
up  and  down  the  St.  Lawrence  between  Montreal  and  Quebec,”  says  the  Spring- 
field  Republican,  “would  in  itself  read  like  a  romance.  In  summer  heats  and 
the  rigors  of  Canadian  winters,  searching  parish  registers,  asking  and  always 
receiving  every  possible  assistance  from  the  cures,  who  entered  into  her  re¬ 
searches  with  the  greatest  interest  and  treated  her  with  genuine  hospitality, 
she  found  here  and  there  a  clue  which  she  followed  up,  until  she  finally  suc¬ 
ceeded  in  tracing  the  lives  of  eighteen  out  of  thirty  Deerfield  captives,  who 
had  been  totally  lost  to  their  kindred  from  the  time  of  their  capture.” 


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